A Dance Of Death
by Xkia
Summary: Phillip Pirrup, an orphan who has a never ending list of tormentors. A gentleman who is beat for his nationality, he is hated by virtually everyone until one day he meets the strange Damien Thorne, but the meeting will bring a horror more terrifying than anything brewed by either of their imaginations.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So, whelp, this is a fan fiction birthed from a dare by a friend and after a few rolls of the dice, this is what has come from it. I intend to finish this at all odds, even if it was a dare, I am too stubborn to leave it unfinished. as of writing this I am on Chapter 7, also, sorry if it is appallingly bad**

 **Also, this is an AU (I think that's what it is called), the episode 'Damien' never happened and other things that will be revealed later.**

 **(An update for 10/04/16) As of writing this, I have found that a lot of people have been reading Chapter 1 and just leaving. If someone could give me the reason of this so I could potentially improve, I would gladly accept and appreciate it. Thank you very much**

 **\- Xkia**

Chapter 1

I woke up startled and confused to a bright light beaming on my face through the blinds of my windows and the sounds of colourful birds chirping incessantly outside. The light that I rarely see when I normally awake brought rushing questions to my mind.

'Why is it so sunny out" I thought aloud, slightly worried. It took a short, tick of a second for the fog of my mind to be washed away like the blast of a water hose and for it to finally dawn on me. Scrambling out of bed and looking around the room. It was not very big, barely enough space for my small oak single bed, a double door wooden wardrobe, mirror and then I focused my gaze on my desk that held the reason for my possible late awakening.

Rushing to it I looked at my Smartphone, with blurred, sleep filled eyes. I fumbled on the lock key trying in vain to turn it on until I finally realized that not a single drop of power was left in the battery and therefore no alarm to wake me up at the rare times I actually slept completely.

Actually grasping the severity of the fact that I may be late I hurried, bug eyed, to the wardrobe near the back of the room and proceeded to try and get dressed before any more time would tick. Messily I attempted to get changed out of my dark blue night clothes as quickly as humanly possible. Not knowing the actual time (only that it was Friday and it was significantly too late for my liking) and fearing any possible consequences to being late I wrestled with my clothes, trying to make myself at least slightly presentable. It took a few minutes but eventually I admired my handiwork at the mirror stationed to the right of my wardrobe.

my body, thin and around 5'8, dull blue eyes surrounded by bags that showed my almost complete lack of sleep, neck long straight blond hair that was fully visible on my head, no longer being obstructed by the odd flat cap I used to wear in my younger years, my old attire had gone with the hat, now wearing a white long sleeved button up shirt, blue vest, formal trousers and well polished leather shoes. I preferred to try and make myself look somewhat formal, it simply fit me more and I tried to dress like the gentlemen I strived to be. Although not as strange as what I used to wear, I was still mocked by the fools who thought I was swine due to my English nationality.

Snapping myself out of my stupor I rushed out of my room down the short corridor that separated the rooms of my flat to the main entrance, grabbing a light blue jacket off of the hanger and my backpack next to the door I ran down the stairs of the apartment complex towards the double glass doors that showed the bitter outside. The snow crunching beneath me on the untidy littered sidewalk as I sprinted to the bus stop, it was but a few streets away, every step it came closer and closer. I ran with one single goal and the chant of ' _don't be late, don't be late'_ piercing through my mind like the mantra of a choir repeating and repeating not wanting my goal to be lost in my mind as I scampered, nearly slipping purely from my own momentum.

After what seemed like an eternity I saw my salvation on the quickly approaching horizon, the scratched, barely standing, and faded old red bus stop sign and with students milling about around it in their various cliques too! Deciding it was safe enough for me to walk to the outskirts of the conglomeration of teenagers I hid from the group and thought on why I even bothered. I was still mocked and tormented solely for the facts that I was a target, an immigrant (even though virtually all the population of this country are descended from immigrants), the idiots of this town couldn't handle someone who wasn't a empty-headed redneck with no sense of empathy or sympathy, hell bent on hurting others, and generally odd, at least in their uncaring eyes. Over 5 years since my near death encounter and still I was mocked. I had hoped for the slightest sign of sympathy from the mad men and women, who inhabited this redneck town, but my hopes had been unwise and the torment had only grown like an untreated pus filled infection from that day forward.

Smiling to myself for not being late, I stayed as far away from the large gathering with the hope as to not be spotted, for if I was, I would become the center of their insults. ' _thank all that is holy I wasn't late, god only knows what would have happened if I was late again,'_ I thought to myself as I sat, hidden behind one of the many trees, I was only allowed to live on my own if I could show my ability to look after myself. I was surprised that I was allowed to live on my own, but this town was secluded and uncared for enough by the rest of the world for something as simple as for me to be left to virtually fend for myself would be left without a bat of an eyelash.

I overheard the pointless, idle chit - chat of my schoolmates, nothing but pointless talk, gossip, the new phone/game console or other object of amusement that is " bound" to be better than the last and mostly other pointless nonsense not worthy of being spoken, but the one thing I noticed in the talking was mention that there may be a new student coming to North park, not hearing any more than that I mulled over this potential new person.

 _'If this person does exist'_ I thought ' _I expect them to pick on me like the rest, I get another tormentor, oh joy'_. I sighed and mulled over what this possible new person would be like but before I could even attempt to visualize what they may have looked like, the elderly, warn bus pulled up. Its" originally bright yellow paint now a rusted, faded version of its" former self, the bus itself was barely operational, it was a miracle that the breaks still worked, most of the seats were stained and almost constantly damp as well as seatbelts with which almost all of them didn't have working buckles, how the bus hadn't been replaced is beyond me, the schools budget wasn't that small, they were just tight gits.

Moving to the back of the queue to get on the death trap known as my way to school I found myself unlucky as I was behind the oversized neo Nazi Eric Cartman, or fat-arse as the rest of the school was content at naming him. Surprisingly he didn't even notice or acknowledge me even as I passed him to get to the back of the dingy, foul, dead, rancid smelling bus, the most secluded and less destroyed part of it.

The trip itself was nothing note worthy the only thing I did was think, seeing as my phone had no charge I couldn't listen to my music and the only noteworthy thing about what I thought about was my academic career which was the best (and most probably only) thing going for me, my grades were one of the highest in the class with me being neck and neck against Wendy Testaburger and Kyle Broflovski, seeing as I was at their " level" meant that they were some of the only people who acknowledged my existence without insults or injury. Unfortunately my intellect got me more insults and beatings from others for me being intelligent, although my other two competitors got no such harassment.

Arriving at the school I waited for the rest of the students to leave the bus before I left myself, I just stared out at the school, it was a large modern structure, the building made of visible brick but the windowsills were painted neon red. It was made of two separate buildings, a massive building that was for every subject par English which was in the other building, stationed behind the main building was both the cafeteria and English building (both of them were separated of course). I stared at them assuming that if I left just in time to get to my tutor that I would be behind all of the other students and then in turn not get noticed to become the center of attention by anyone who viewed me as " worthy" of their time and presence. This was the way I had struggled and crawled through most of this year/grade and surprisingly none of my idiotic tormentors had gathered my way of avoiding them, not that it upset me, and I usually had a pleasant beginning to the day, but alas it seemed that this particular day was destined to not be one of those.

As I left and walked up the cracked stone stairs to the partially windowed double door entrance I felt a weight press at me from behind, in an instant my body collided with the icy ground, it was as painful, the same as the other times, my vision becoming blurry and a shock run through my body by the sudden impact. Feeling a shoe press next to my spine and drive me down as I tried in vain to lift my body and escape.

"Say French, you ok down there" said the weasel like, unbroken and irritating voice of the psychotic Eric Cartman; he lifted his shoe only to slam it back down next to my spine sending a rushing river of pain coursing through my body.

The French insult meant nothing to me, it wasn't even correct, how something that means nothing to me could be considered an insult, I don't know. I am sure that the French thing was more of a habit to him than anything truly malicious. True it did harm my feelings many moons ago, for I didn't want my pride of country to be tarnished by these redneck fools but that was of no concern now, they had already humiliated me enough for no insult to bring a sliver of care to my being. The after effect of this though was to inflict physical abuse on me to produce a reaction, oh how I wished I had feigned care for their mockery for my aggressors had gained a taste for my pain, and they revelled in it.

Turning my head towards the obese cretin standing almost on top of me I noticed he didn't have his mindless brute followers. His old " friends" had left him near the end of elementary/primary school and at the time he acted as if it was nothing but dust flowing in the wind but I was positive it had crushed him and he had turned to me with raised fists in retaliation to his abandonment.

he himself was a oversized teen around 6 feet tall, face puffed and riddled with acne, wearing a jumper, jeans and the odd red and yellow poof ball hat, deep sharp brown uncaring, sadistic eyes holding a disgusting scowl on his face as he stared down on me, probably thinking of himself as some kind of god over my pathetic, mortal body.

I failed to see why Eric found such perverse pleasure in hurting others, possibly he was hiding something or maybe it was just the result of a bad childhood, but my childhood was bad, probably worse. Yes he was mocked by his close friends in primary school for his mum being the " village bicycle" so to speak but at least he had a parent, I can't even recall my parents" faces or voice, and I hated most forms of violence unlike him.

He smirked "ah... French, you see I have a problem, I'm feeling a bit down, so is it ok if I let my frustrations out by beating the everlasting shit out of you" his smirk had turned into a out of place innocent looking smile as he crouched down on top of me, digging his shoe into my body.

Feeling his weight alone almost crush my ribs and most of my internal organs was an experience I wish not to explain but all I can say is that it was excruciating. The pain caused belloweing screams of agony to erupt from my body as I squirmed and jerked underneath him. Just as he was lowering his fist in an attempt to punch the back of my head, luck seemed to be on my side as through my pained writhing I moved my head causing his fist not to collide with not me but the ground making the creature of almost entirely lard recoil off my body in pain.

Seeing my moment of freedom I scrambled up on instinct and rushed towards the doors, his curses and angry words behind me. My speed outweighed his by a large amount, and I sprinted towards my tutor room.

Pushing open the door and stumbling in, panting and sweating I looked up at my tutor, Mr Yates. A man of around sixty with greyed heir and old dull looking bored green eyes that focused on the desk in front of him.

"Sorry I'm late" I announced between deep inhales for precious oxygen filled air.

"To be honest Mr. Pirrup, I don't care, just sit down and shut up" he replied in a disinterested tone, holding his head in his right hand and slumping on his chair and glaring at everything but nothing in .

Obeying I moved towards the back of the room, my seat like other classes, secluded in the corner. The room set in rows; we were allowed to choose where to sit which surprisingly wasn't very loud. The year 10/grade 9 class chatting and insulting each other as I sat down and thought about nothing, ready to start another " exciting and productive" day of school.

The day itself was nothing of note, all the classes were filled with information I already knew and I was mostly ignored for the day only being stopped to be shoved, punched or called French, even though I was English as shown by my bloody accent, aside from that nothing eventful happened.

The iconic (if you could call it that) part of the day happened on the way home while I was walking through narrow streets and alleyways; I turned a corner to reveal a fist flying to my face and my body suddenly careening backwards to the ground, my head hitting the building behind me causing my senses to disappear in a brief state of shock. I heard the voice of the thing I had been trying to avoid, his pudgy form eventually coming in full view as I laid once again on the ground, this time with blood pouring out of my nose like water from a glass.

"Thought you could get away from me you little shit... oh pip you can't be that stupid, I mean you are on par with that prick Kyle and the whore and all, intellectually on par at least" he said, shrugging.

I then noticed his goons, muscle bound creatures with the brains of a mollusc (also known as approximately 70% of this town.) they held the same burning, undying hatred for me like their leader. They pinned me to the ground before I could even think to struggle, leaving my body open to the wailing and untrained but painful punches of Cartman and his " friends'.

It seemed to last for hours, the pain of having ones entire body punched, kicked and stepped on by a 600lb monster and his body builder goons is none to pleasant. Every attack leaving a sickening and ear-splitting crunch as limbs flew into my body. breaking bones, bruising and bringing a pain that almost sent me to sweet unconsciousness, I could feel and see every attack as it came towards me as if in slow motion, flying like a eagle ready to strike and leaving a stinging pain that was replaced by a worse one somewhere else on my body. Every attack knocked the wind from my body, leaving me unable to scream for assistance. It wasn't until I was close to ejecting bile onto the arses" face that he stopped. Commanding his comrades to follow he left me lying on the ground, my body feeling as cold and numb as the snow covered path beneath me and as useless as an empty shell, dead and ineffective. I must have looked pathetic. With blood oozing from a broken nose and nearly vomiting the contents of a battered and abused stomach, I attempted to lift myself. That was a mistake as my newly gained wounds flared with agony forcing me back to the ground.

It took fifteen minutes for the pain to lessen enough to move. Struggling up and cradling the aforementioned stomach and nose, causing blood to seep through the cracks in-between my fingers and dye the snow below. I staggered and limped down streets, muttering curses of " bloody hell" as I walked, every step feeling like a million and taking as much energy. Ignoring the feeling to slump against a wall and just sleep I continued onwards towards the small flat I called home. Ignoring the odd looks of passerby's, I moved onward, not caring of the throbbing pain anymore just the warm comfort of my home.

I moved onward out of one of the damp alleyways to the stone slab path towards the tall imposing building that I called home, it was one of the largest in town, over twenty stories high holding over one hundred people.

I appalled traversing the stairs towards the twelfth floor, every step causing an unexplainable agony in my abdomen. It was the same anytime I had been beaten and horribly injured. Up and up on the never-ending flight of stone that led towards my warm safety. I believed that I would never make it but I looked with pride as I agonisingly and slowly reached the door to my flat.

Locking the door I quickly grabbed some kitchen roll to stop the blood still pouring from my nose. After the last droplets of thick crimson was consumed and tainted the white sheet, I moved to the front room and fell unceremoniously onto the sofa to drift into a terrifying sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**well, chapter two, after going through the overly length editing process to make sure this wasn't completely terrible... it is now probably completely terrible. anyway I hope you enjoy**

 **Also, seeing as I've seen this quite the bit, I don't own South Park, it belongs to its respective owners.**

CHAPTER 2

I was running, something behind me; I dared not to look around at whatever it was. Step after step I ran, nothing was important except survival, an inhuman screech burst from the beast behind me. Nothing surrounding me, only a black, empty, ungodly void and a continuous pathway in front of me made of a queer red stone that seemed to glow ominously.

Not caring, I ran down the path, the creature still seaming no closer but no further away. My stamina failing me, I almost stopped, but pushed myself to run far from whatever it was. My legs burned as lactic acid stung and stabbed at my legs, I wanted nothing but to rest, the pain absorbed all energy from my body but I tried to run.

The surroundings were featureless, only the unnatural, pure black nothingness and the pathway that seemed to float in this void that surrounded me, like a cage. I attempted to even slimy think on the situation but both the abhorrent monsters' scream and my rushing mind tore me back to the situation at hand. Knowing that it was run or face this creature, I pressed onward, my chest feeling as if it was ready to collapse in on itself.

The strange events weighed down on my mind like an anvil, I had no idea what was going on, except that my instinct to survive was the only thing that had stopped me from facing my end. Blood raced through my body, deafening me to everything except the pathway that I believed would lead me to hope or safety.

In the distance I could see something, a figure in the darkness, my savior maybe. Sprinting towards it I tried to gain their attention but my voice wouldn't respond, only a stifled cough came, silencing me, and I could hear the thing drawing near!

Both dread at the creature and joy of possible salvation fueling me I rushed towards the figure, truly they had to help me, but no matter how match I ran I couldn't make out anything but their outline.

My legs failed to respond for a single second and something wet and slimy wrapped around my leg and pulled me back, slamming me to the ground releasing a gasp from my lung as the greasy, revolting, thing crawled up my legs before time stood still, behind me I could only hear a heavy, ill sounding breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, it was terrifyingly close, keeping me on the verge of screaming and flailing but I couldn't move, I feared what would happen if I even twitched.

I led there for only a few moments before the things that wrapped around my legs twisted me quickly onto the floor and towards the thing. In a second of fear I saw a thousand creatures bonded together to create a mound of flesh, countless talons, maws and tendrils before I woke screaming in terror.

The scream itself was short lived but I sat on the sofa cradling my legs to my chest and shivering as memories of the night terror flooded my mind. I rested there, unable to get the image of the monster of a thousand faces to leave my thoughts, this creature had not been in a night terror save for that night. I had nightmares of creatures like this since my dance with death five years ago. It was originally thought to be a consequence of the trauma of nearly dyeing at such a young age but they should have left eventually, their persistence proved otherwise.

The nightmares were the reason I usually had no sleep, so consistent were they that sometimes I dreaded my own bed and the sleep I would succumb to if I rested on it. On a rare occasion the nightmares would not shroud my mind like a disgusting drug, sometimes my dreams would be filled with blissful silence and total unfeeling darkness.

The night terrors themselves were always different. One I remember extensively was that I was strapped on a metal table, my arms and legs limp and useless, shapeless silhouettes surrounding me as I felt an excruciating burning pain over my body that wouldn't stop. I could see my skin scorch and melt under the nonexistent roaring fire that brought an unimaginable torture that I could feel but not see.

I would always wake after a nightmare either in sleep paralysis, unable to move with a mind made figure at the edge of my bed seemingly staring at me or moving around me until my mind had figured out how to take control of my body and the nonexistent figure would be gone. Or I would wake as I am now, in the upmost form of fear, myself the only form of comfort as my brain only focused on the creature created solely by it.

If I were normal by now my mind would have entered a 'happy place' and I would slowly calm down but my mind had no such place. The persistence of the horrors had fizzled that place into a nonexistent, decrepit wasteland. As I sat there, in the overpowering, constant darkness, my eyes wide and unblinking, darting between every large object in the room, I was waiting for any type of horrible creature to burst from it to attack. I rocked my body waiting for the glory of the suns light to overcome the shadows and knock me to reality.

I shook my head and continued to attempt to move my thoughts from my nightmare and instead to pay attention to anything else. Eventually it wasn't my own efforts but both my growling stomach and grimy and filth ridden body that forced me to move. If it was a few years ago I would still be lying on the sofa writhing in the pain Eric had inflicted but now that my body had became used to the regular attacks, there was only a small thump of pain. Silently I moved towards my bathroom to shower the sweat and blood that had accumulated on me.

The Bathroom was an overpowering white, from the palm sized tiles to the well polished counter; it glared the sunlight at every angle. With clumsy movements I had closed the blinds and was underneath the shower, the warm water pouring on my body like a bucket, making my blue and black body to flare in pain.

With squeezed eyes I slowly washed my pathetic body, each touch and rub causing the deep bruises that littered my body to complain and flare about the offensive touch.

Eventually my body was cleaned, and I could see the damage on my naked form, my entire abdomen was bruised but a from what I could tell when washing, no bones were broken. With a sigh I dried myself and slipped into similar attire to the day before (minus the vest) and was set to stopping my complaining stomach.

the kitchen, it wasn't anything extravagant, clean, wooden counters holding cooking utensils, a stove/cooker, that I considered myself quite adept at using, fridge/freezer, kettle, toaster, cupboards and a rather new, but unused (as I preferred to cook my own food) red microwave.

Deciding not to make anything large or convoluted I settled on toast and some tea. Reaching to grab the bread and teabags I noticed that the cupboards were almost completely derelict of food, as it was around this time of the month, before my spending money was sent to me. After sliding the bread in the toaster pulling down the switch, with a satisfying clink sound as it was turned on.

It was but a few minutes till I was sitting on the sofa sipping on deliciously sweetened, tea and watching terrible daytime television that I didn't care about nor remember. This was how I spent most of my mornings, doing little nothings until I deemed it late enough to leave to do food shopping or something similar.

Checking the time on my, actually charged, phone I saw it was only nine am 'More than enough time' I thought going to the far right of the room to my large bookshelf, it took up the corner of the room and reached the ceiling, not a single free space not filled by a book, several different authors, H.P Lovecraft, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie, Dean Koontz ect. Choosing my most recent book Great Expectations I sat back on my single sofa (dark red and extremely soft) in the opposite corner of the room, my 'reading area' as I called it, muting the TV I sat down and opened the book ready to get engrossed.

It wasn't until four hours had passed that I decided to put down the book and leave the comfort of my flat to the outside (that surprisingly wasn't as cold as usual), to resupply on food and probably buy some more books or cds. Walking down the sidewalk to the local mall, the cold nipping at any and all exposed skin. moving past the streets where my classmates lived, their houses only distinguished by their individual colours, and turning a street to the business district of town, I saw that a moving truck was in front of one of the originally vacant houses (that hadn't been converted into an office complex), with two burly men wearing a uniform that had a similar label to the truck and one other who seemed to have oily platinum colour hair, wearing a red Jacket and a black shirt and trousers, but the thing that was most odd about him was the strange crimson colour eyes that beamed an eerie over cheeriness. I saw they were moving unlabeled boxes and such into the house 'maybe there is a new student' I thought 'well isn't that interesting.'

Stopping to look at the house I saw it was a plain white colour, most of the curtains were closed and the flanking office buildings casted thick shadows onto the out of place house. looking closer I saw someone on the top floor through the windows and he was staring directly at me, before I turned away and walked in embarrassment I saw he had the same colour eyes as the platinum haired man, looked about my age and had black hair.

I waited until I had cleared the block before I continued my walk to the mall. I chose to go to the mall instead of the closer grocery store for two reasons, I could buy some music at the mall, and even though some of my classmates may have been there it wasn't as cold as a freezer in Antarctica.

The mall itself was as overcrowded as expected, an innumerable amount of people browsing and milling around in shops. The moderately loud sound of footsteps and chatter was calming as it echoed through the large building. the mall was comprised of two floors and over seventy separate stores all of them for a specific type of item or some in the oddest combinations, a little shop for both cloths and sweets, and some even odder, much like this town in some respects.

After going into the over-sized grocery shop that took the far end of the building, I was positive I wasn't going to starve this month. as well as that I still had some money left, smiling to myself I walked to the second story record shop to treat myself for not being killed by the stupidity of this town.

The shop was nice, a mellow and content atmosphere, only 6 - 7 people browsing the isles of cds. I looked around until I found the rock/metal section and started searching through it.

I don't know why when people ask me what my preferred music genre is they are surprised when I reply with the one I was searching through, I know that with the way I dress and by my heritage that maybe classical would be the obvious choice, at least the one people could mock me for, but most of the influential rock/metal bands started in the UK. I didn't like anything too heavy, music where 90% of it was screaming I didn't really see the point in. The long, story like tone of many songs in the genre was what I liked. Of course I listened to other types of music, even though classical wasn't my favorite I still listened to it and many others on occasion.

Irritated at seeing nothing that I would listen to, I decided to come here in a few days once they had restocked. Unfortunately this meant I had to go back outside to walk home, in the cold. Walking through the large main entrance to the mall I felt the cold wash over me like a tidal wave, my body freezing still as I had forgotten to bring my jacket, a stupid mistake on my part, and was instantly regretting not to double check that I had brought everything. As soon as I left the building, the tornado of the Colorado chill made my body shake and my teeth chatter.

Deciding to just walk, I did so, the cold no longer nipping at my skin but biting at it like a angry hound, leaving me shivering uncontrollably, my own rubbing hands ineffective as I tried to hug my body to conserve a sliver of heat. The mountain air left my body almost completely numb in an instant, any heat being sapped from my body. Eventually the cold proved too overpowering and my vision became blurry and I felt tired, incredibly tired, I decided to run, the cold air hitting my face like the slice of a blade and my abused ribs giving an unpleasant throbbing any time one foot landed in front of the other. This seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence, having to sprint somewhere for survival because I was foolish and forgot to do something simple.

This was one of the rare occurrences that I had thanked being bullied and harassed for I knew most of the short routes home and if it wasn't for that it was inarguable that I would have died that day because of the intense unending cold that plagued the mountain town. moving through the dank, grim and generally unpleasant stone grey alleyways I saw my flat once again and strode towards the main doors, my body probably entirely blue from the cold, the sky a dark black, the gibbous moon shining strange eldritch fantasies down unto me like the beam of a flashlight. 'How long had I been shopping' I thought but truly not caring I entered the complex.

dropping the bags of shopping by the front door as I entered my flat, I embraced the enticing warmth that shrouded my body like a soft blanket, giving me a euphoric felling that wouldn't leave, not that I wanted it to, and I stood there leaning against the front door happy that I had survived my own stupidity. Smirking I thought ' this town is beginning to rub off on me... that is a terrifying thought'.

Once I had gotten myself from my thoughts I stored the food in the cupboards and freezer then, deciding that I couldn't be bothered with cooking, I grabbed a bottle of coke and phoned up the local takeaway, city wok, for some under-cooked and poorly made cheap Chinese food.

after the food had arrived I had elected to not sleep tonight to ensure I had no other nightmares, they had tended to happen twice or three times in a row then stop for a week or so, although there were some rare instances that brought me the highest form of terror where the nightmares had lasted for over a week. To pass the time I chose to marathon a TV show, Red Dwarf I remember it being.

This is another thing that I didn't understand when people tried to guess (insult) what I like and disliked, these mostly were lies created so others could insult me for my 'interests', but why TV and music I'll never know.

I sat there, the hours passing and my only movements being me getting up to change discs. seeing as I had done this many a time it wasn't until the sun was shining brightly through my window yet again, that my eyes began to droop and sleep nearly came over me but the threat of another nightmare kept me awake. Sitting there no longer concentrating on the TV but solely on staying up and not falling into the terrors of my own mind but sadly my attempts were futile as the day's events had drained me of my energy and my eyes closed and I dreamed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: so, Chapter 3. This one was finished faster than expected, normally my process of editing takes much longer but, low and behold, it is here. like the last chapter, i do not own anything mentioned in this story, no characters, no products only the idea of the story itself.**

Chapter 3

In my unconsciousness I dreamt of an abhorred black vista, like oil, surrounding me, the shapeless mass bubbling and folding over itself as if it was alive but with no thought, no glowing red stone path, no snarling, disgusting creature chasing me, only a strangely calming liquid. Like the other nightmare though I couldn't utter a single noise, only complete silence was my companion, my body felt weightless as if it wasn't there, but looking down I saw my thin form.

Looking around I tried to move but my body wouldn't respond, all I could do was look in front of me but all I saw was an empty land, lacking... everything. it seemed like hours had passed until something caught my attention, in the distance I saw a figure, the same as the one I had seen in my previous nightmare but it seemed slightly clearer, still draped in darkness but I could see some more obvious features that weren't present in the other nightmare, I could tell it was male and was taller than me, but that was about it, nothing spectacular, its shadowy form walked towards me, as if still on the red stone pathway and not on the oil like liquid that consumed this fictional landscape. closer and closer it moved towards me, I could feel a unusual excitement brewing inside me at the prospect of seeing the person, to see if this dream had any meaning or was just a oddity created by my mind, but just before the figure came close enough to barely see skin, I woke.

 _BEEP, BEEP, BEEP._

The alarms of my phone screaming like a church bell next to my ears and I fumbled trying to turn off the unpleasant sound. Once that was done, I lazed with closed eyes on the sofa, contemplating my bizarre dream, had it meant anything or was it some anomaly created from my mind after a restless day.

My eyes opening, they stung and tried to force themselves closed as I adjusted to the bright light that I had originally turned away from. Slowly the blur left my eyes I and vision had graced me once again, the TV was on, the main menu, for whichever season I was on was looping with the same music that quickly got on my nerves, and with dirty plates and glasses on the floor. the tune going on and on, becoming exponentially annoying, getting up I turned off the TV and sweet silence graced me, I moved to clean up the food that had began to look dry having not being touched for a few hours, the smell filled the room, making me feel a little sick.

As I rose from the sofa, my muscles ached and complained in a sore whine. I should have guessed that this would have happened, the weeks strenuous activity had taken its toll on my weak muscles. With a wobbled stature I raised my body, the twinge in my legs presenting themselves.

Looking out of the window I scrutinised the sun, that held its burning form high in the center of the blue sky, it was past mid day and seeing that there was nothing better to do I chose to spend the day freshening up the place. Considering that I was the sole person that had to look after the flat and due to that, I was a bit obsessive when it came to cleaning, the task wasn't very daunting, if anything it was simple. All I really had to do was wash the dishes and clothes but that was all.

Before I did anything though I looked at my body to pay a closer inspection to any damage than I did the other day, the freezing cold surprisingly didn't affect the marks left on my body by Eric.

The task itself took around two hours, it would have taken less but I decided to polish virtually every possible surface, simply to be certain that not a single speck of dust was left in the house. I eventually found myself sitting in my 'reading area' stuck into Great Expectations yet again. I let my worn out muscles relax and melt like an ice cube on a boiling summers day when I sat, my only movement being the turning of page after page after page I read. For hours upon hours I read the book, hell, I finished it, before moving onto another title. Captivated by the hundreds and hundreds of words, time left me, as if it had never existed in the first place and for nonexistent hours I read, only ever stopping once to eat before being sucked back the realm of fantasy that seemed so much better than my own reality. It wasn't until I had noticed something odd, looking up from one of the latter pages of the current story I saw a small seam of bright light trailing from underneath the blinds covering my windows, ' _but it was night but a few moments ago'_ I thought, before realising how much I had lost track of time.

Reaching for my phone to check the time, I was shocked to find it was eight am _'oh bugger, half an hour, I have half an hour and it's goddamned Monday... I'm screwed'_ panicking I dropped the book and sprinted to my bedroom. Changing into my usual attire I dashed out of my house, grabbing my red coat, pulling over the coat stand with the force of my tug, and my backpack as I ran. Locking the door behind me I sprinted down the steps, nearly tripping on them a countless amount of times to reach the door.

I wouldn't be able to make it to the bus stop in time, I couldn't, it should have already left, it normally arrived there at ten to seven, and I had missed it _'Damn.'_

As I ran through cramped alleyways (I had decided that running through the crowded main streets would be too slow and I knew the quickest way to school was to abuse the alleyways). panicking I sprinted down the twists and turns, occasionally glancing at my phone to see the time, fifteen minutes left but it seemed lady luck was on my side as I ran out of the alleys on to a under populated street until I had reached the hill that rose towards the school building. My legs ached, having not fully recovered and the prospect of running up the hill to school was not enticing but I did not care about the pain or the steepness of the hill. I began running faster than I thought myself possible, my legs feeling as if they had been hit with a sledgehammer, every step was a whack to them. Once I arrived at the gates to the school, with only five minutes left, I could only stumble and limp, my body wore a coat of sweat and refused to stop heaving breath. Even through my exhaustion I was surprised at how quickly I both had made it to the building and at how quickly I had made it up the hill that led to the school. _'why do I even take the bus when I can get here in fifteen minutes?... guess I'm just a lazy git'_ I thought sitting on the wall outside the entrance to the school. The snow layered the entire area, par the cars and dilapidated bus. The entrance was empty, not a single soul on the outside, it looked like a scene in a horror movie, completely alone, exhausted leaving only the gentle breeze, silence and unending fields of white to smother me like a quilt.

Eventually I found myself inside the building, moving through the claustrophobic, all encompassing corridors. only around three pupils, outside of rooms, who had decided not to go into their class until the last minute. Fortunately for me my tutor room was barely a few corridors to the entrance, so it wasn't long until I found myself in my tutor room once again in my secluded corner. Sitting, still heaving in breath after breath, but recovering and after a minute or two my body had stopped its demand for oxygen, my red face had began to disappear as well as the sweat, thank god I kept deodorant in my backpack because otherwise I would have reeked.

I sat, my head rested on my right hand in boredom, when I saw walking through the door was a somewhat familiar face. He looked down at a piece of paper before clarifying with a small nod, then entered the room, gaining the rooms collective gaze. For a second he stood, before cautiously moving into view, showing his full form. He was taller than me, pale skin that made him look as if he was on the verge of an illness, deep eyes wore a piercing crimson colour that looked like swirling blood in-between the surrounding white. Pale lips, much like his skin, kept in a thin line, shaggy raven hair that went partially over his right eye, wearing dark trousers and a large messenger bag on his side. An unbuttoned black trench coat, the collar turned up, over relaxed shoulders, a plain black jumper underneath that. Resting on the jumper was what seemed to be a pendant, silver, in the shape of a upside-down pentagram with a goats head in the center that was coloured red ' _a symbol of the devil... that's a bit unusual'_ the necklace seemed to force demonic imagery to my head, orgies of sacrifice and blood, chants praising a dark deity and other unexpected thoughts. He held an expression of curiosity on his face as he scanned the new room, the apathetic look still held on his face. He seemed like he was absorbing every detail about the place, from the depressingly dank looking brown walls to the slightest scribble on the desks, born from many a dull lesson.

the teacher got up from his seat and stood at the front of the class room, reaching out to pull the boy to his side "this is Damian Thorne, he's new so don't be bastards" the rest of the class looked at the new student then, without hesitation, continued their conversations, probably changing their conversations to talk about this 'Damian', looking at the other students I thought _' one day, one day and the fools at this school would have made some rumour about him that has no evidence to back it up'_. The teacher lifted his arm and moved it across the room in a sweeping motion "sit where ever you like... I don't care" he muttered. I expected him to place himself on the nearest seat but I was surprised when he began moving in my direction, I was shocked even more when I found that he had sat next to me. Looking at him I saw something that caught my interest, on his neck was a tattooed symbol, three sixes surrounding a small circle, it was small but noticeable, the deep red standing out against his skin.

Turning his head to me he said "so... what's your name?", his voice was deep and smooth but I could hear the boredom in it, he spoke in a half formal manor that had a strange accent to it that I couldn't place.

"The names Phillip but everyone calls me pip... because they hate me" I said lowering my voice at the final part, I had wanted to get out of the conversation as quickly as possible. It would only amount to him throwing me to the unfeeling ground.

"Then pip it is" he stopped for a second then gave me a quizzical look as he heard the entire sentence "why would everyone hate you?"

Smiling sadly and glancing around the room I replied "it may sound silly but its because... because I'm English and therefore different and, well, I guess its just that virtually all of these redneck morons see difference as some form of, of weakness". I heard silence after that statement, then a small chuckle.

"Well I'm going to be seen as the weakest guy around if difference is considered that"

Turning towards him I saw a small smirk on his face pallid face "I'd presume this is because of your pendant and tattoo"

he smiled, a sarcastically wide smile, twisting the pendent in his thumb and middle finger while tracing the goats head with his index "very deductive my dear Watson" he said in a dry tone "yes it is those, but before I tell you the main reason... are you religious?"

I raised an eyebrow at him "my" I paused for a moment "my family was catholic but I am not myself"

"What do you mean by was?" he asked

"Oh..." I looked down in slight sorrow "my family is dead, to be frank"

"Sorry to hear that... but to what I was saying earlier, they will hate me because, my father and I, I guess, are Satanists" he stopped for a second before continuing "Although I don't really believe in it that much, I mostly do it to comfort my father". The bluntness of the statement shocked me, looking up I stared at him in his eyes in somewhat disbelief, the sadness replaced instantaneously by the shock, but it was gone quicker than it came, ' _I guess it is a bit obvious, the imagery on his body and all'_

"Fair 'nuff, haven't met a devil worshiper before, also I won't tell anyone, if that's a worry of yours, but I dare say that if that news were to break out that I'd suggest staying away from the over-sized kid currently in this room known as Eric Cartman and another person known as Trent Boyett out of all the students here they are the most sadistic psychopaths. They'd find any reason, or none at all, to rip on and or hurt or maim you, because they are insane."

He shrugged his shoulders "thanks" he said, "I'll keep that in mind, but it's not really a worry I don't really go around telling everyone like it's the most important thing on this godforsaken planet. To be honest I only told you because of the way you spoke about everyone else"

Pulling out my phone I checked how long it was until next lesson, then, looking back up at Damian, I said "We only have five minutes 'till next period, and the year has English first, so, I'll show you to the room, the core lessons are all in the tutor groups so we should be in the same lessons"

We waited in silence Damien looked on at the end of the room, he displayed an oddly fitting frown, he was thinking about... something, before he turned back to me.

"Listen, I was wondering, why wer-" he got out before the bell rang, ripping through the room like knife blade, to indicate the end of tutor. "Don't worry, I'll ask later" he muttered before beginning to stand, I reached and grabbed his arm singling him to sit back down. He looked down on me confused.

"I suggest we wait for the others to leave, than we shall go. If we go now there is a higher possibility that one of my tormentors will find a way to delay us with their imbecilic insults and probably attack me" I explained

he gave a small smile "don't worry Phillip, if anyone decides that you are game I'll ensure they won't lay a hand on you" it almost seemed as if there was some form of joy in the way he spoke those sentences

"Right-O, uh, I mean, If you say so, oh, and I don't mind you callin' me pip. It's a bit strange for someone to call me Philip" I said.

"No, if I'm gonna' hang around with you I want to call you something different than the regular assholes, anyway, let's go" then, cautiously and taking some 'less allowed' routs (circling the school as to not get caught in a crowd) I led Damien to the cafeteria/English building. The building, like most others in the school seemed almost immaculate, even painted a clean looking white to resemble the surrounding snow but at closer inspection it was littered with obvious filth, food and drink spilling in corners and sides of corridors, cracks on the wallpaper, spider webs and spiders in the most dingy of areas. The paint even began to look grey and aged, some of the paint had fallen and the orange interior was visible. It normally took less than a minute for students to take notice of the destruction that overcame this place, like a curse, Damien was no different.

"It's a real shithole here, isn't it?" I looked back at him as I turned another crowded corner.

"Agreed, and I don't see why the school doesn't just clean up a bit, it wouldn't take a million quid to make this place look presentable, guess they're just cheap" I shrugged as I turned and walked towards the door that was the entrance to my class but stooped as I felt something was off. I turned to Damien with a slightly surprised look "well... blow me, it's a surprise that you've been around me for more than ten minutes and you haven't mocked me because of my accent."

He gave me a curious look "why would I, out of all the people I have met in this town, so far you seem like one of the people in this school who isn't an insufferable dick. I'd rather deal with someone who isn't an asshole but not understand a few of the things he says then deal with an unreliable dick, and anyway I traveled through England for a few months so I understand at least a bit of what you're saying"

I stared at him in complete disbelief, normally anyone would have left me on my own and grouped with the other kids but Damien seemed like a completely different type of species with the way he regarded me. It normally only took a minute for anyone to see me as annoying and discard me.

"I... I truly don't know what to say... thanks, I guess" I paused for a bit "usually by now anyone would have seen me as strange and left me to myself... it's rare I meet anyone who can deal with me"

He laughed a deep, soul resonating and somewhat menacing laugh "you are hardly anything to deal with, anyway aren't you supposed to be taking me into the class or are we going to just stand outside it" he said with a cocked neck.

I jumped slightly than opened the door, holding it out for him to enter "oh, um, sorry 'bout that, anyway, welcome to English" I said with distain dripping of my tongue.

It wasn't that I hated the lesson, actually quite the opposite, it was just a majority of the students were morons. Imbecilic, indisputable morons.

Last term, when we were reading and analysing Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, most of the students consistently insisted we watch the film instead of analysing the book because 'they didn't want to read'. I don't really see what was gained by watching it, we had already gone through a majority of the play so we knew the characters, plot and such. All it truly gained was a loss of about two hours of learning and more pressure to revise and pick quotes and such for any upcoming tests. In brief, I'd enjoy this lesson and the others, if I wasn't in this town.

Me and Damien sat ourselves in my normal place, the corner, the room was painted a forest like green, the walls littered with laminated paper that held different vocabulary, definitions of nouns, adjectives and the like. It was set out with two tables at the back corners and a long row of tables leading to the teachers desk, behind that, a blackboard with old markings that showed its age and need of replacement, even the chalk needed replacement, it was barely the size of a fingernail.

The teacher himself, Mr. Hedgeson his name was, was a man of around forty-seven, dark hippie like brown hair that reached his upper back, the bottom in a plat, with some grey strands going over his forehead, wide green eyes that, even at his age, still seemed childlike, curious and with a glint of naive innocence. Out of all the teachers in this school he was the one with the most energy, most others just gave us a task, sat down and browsed the internet for an hour until the bell went, but Mr. Hedgeson, he would constantly move about asking anyone if they needed assistance and would help most all students inside or out of lesson, I knew he was one or the staff who worried about me, having more tormenters than most people had friends, it was obvious one of them would catch on, and he would keep me behind after lesson to ask if I needed any help or if something was wrong. I always answered the same, "no nothing is wrong, everything is fine, it's just I'm not the best at being social, that's all" I would always reply with something like that, if he interfered it would only get worse and more relentless. As well as that, Eric would probably kill him and I actually liked him.

As we sat down Mr Hedgeson rushed to our table, his eyes showing the cogs in his head turning like the mechanism of a clock tower. As he walked he looked at me and Damien in slight... glee, the shine in his emerald eyes seemed to indicate.

"Ah, you must be one Damien Thorn if I am correct" he said in his low soft voice.

He looked up at the teacher with uncaring eyes, "who else could I be" he replied.

Mr Hedgeson smiled widely " ya could have been the king of Sweden, anything's possible, anyway I am wondering, what is it your doing with Pip, normally the kids pick on him" he said, inching closer and closer to Damien, his emerald orbs still displaying curiosity.

"Well, I have no reason to do that, at least not right now, so lay off"

He stepped back and raised his hands in a 'back of' motion "okay, okay it's just I don't see him with many friends, it's good that he's getting some anyway. I'll grab you a work book and pip can catch you up on what we've been doing."

I explained that we were analysing 'Of Mice and Men' and were barely starting so there wasn't much to explain to him. We had barely gotten past the fifth chapter.

The lesson itself was alright, sir gave us the work, allowing us to converse with our friends, but we at least had to finish the work (most of the students par a few did this anyway so there was no real point in telling us but I think it was to let Damien know.)

"So how do you find South Park?" I asked

He looked up from his book at me "cold, dull and shit" he replied bluntly, "What about you?"

"It's not the most pleasant of places, at least for others, I hate it, but then again, could always be worse"

He gave me an expressionless look "I can already tell you are going to be almost irritatingly optimistic"  
"-I can stop if you'd like" I said quickly.

He gave a confused look " no, don't, I don't mind," his eyes lifted and a smirk grew on his face "in fact it's a little adorable"

In surprise at his words I looked down back at my book wide eyed in embarrassment, I could feel my face redden, and it didn't help when I heard him nearly burst in laughter then remark "no, in fact your just adorable in general." I hid my head in my folded arms for most of the lesson, red faced, because of that. He still laughed although unlike the others, it wasn't to mock me and that raised my spirits a little.

It wasn't until the blush slowly crept off my face, like a snail down a wall, and the embarrassment left that I decided to spark more pointless, idle conversation.

"Why is it your eyes are coloured red? They're contacts, right, but why such a strange colour and why haven't the teachers had a go at you for it"

He looked at me, one eye brow raised, "umm, Philip, they're not contacts, that's my natural eye colour, I don't know why" he paused for a minute then turned his head to me and smile. "And threatened to, right after I got off of the bus, an older guy stopped me" he chuckled slightly "I actually have to keep a statement from the hospital I was born in so that I wouldn't be kicked out as soon as I got to this, or any, school"

I looked at him "that's your natural colour? How odd"

He smirked once again, it was strange, his smirk that is, it seemed more fitting than his smile. He peered down at me, his crimson irises slicing into my own "yes, yes it is... you know normally people call me out as a liar or a freak, or whatever, whenever I tell them some more personal information... but you're an odd one, you don't seem to give a damn, I wonder why, it's very confusing"

"You have not lived in this town as long as I have. You're lucky to have not. Believe me when I say that this town, at least when everyone was young, was mental, every day seemed stranger than the last, if it wasn't one of the other kids doing something to cause a riot or something in this town it was the adults causing about as much mischief. believe me everyone was and is stupid, after all the stupidity I've seen something as simple as you having red eyes or being a devil worshiper is nothing, but unfortunately that seems to be only with me, everyone else never seemed to be fazed by the psychotic madness that once ensued in this town" I reminisced, memories washing into my mind, horrible, unwelcome memories.

He looked at me with slight curiosity "does anything like that happen nowadays, because of how you talked about it, it seems like a spectacle to see"

I gave a sigh "luckily no, if it still happened to the same degree now, I'm sure you wouldn't be speaking to me, and instead I'd be six feet under"

I was prepared to change the subject before I was interrupted by the bell screaming that an hour had past and we could move to the next lesson, and move the other students did. the conglomeration of body's rifling and squirming past each other like a herd of startled zebra, constantly moving to get past the single painted red wooden door to the next lesson, probably in the mindset that the faster they got to the lesson the quicker school would end.

I waited for the tide of teenagers to pass through the door then led Damien to the math area of the school. It was a short walk, only a few corridors and turns to the math section (the school was split up in square like blocks for each subject with around three to four rooms for a subject.) much like the rest of the school there was an aura of uncleanness and non-care obvious in the filthy, apocalyptic halls.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter 4, again, this is out surprisingly quickly. sorry if its not very good.**

 **and also, I do not own this (at least the source material)**

Chapter 4

The Math period was dull and unimportant to note. Me and Damien were not sat together (and the lesson was only simple algebra) due to the math teacher having a seating plan and I was stuck between Kenneth McCormick and Stanley Marsh. Kenneth (or Kenny to everyone else) was a tall teen of around 6'0, somewhat long, unkempt blond hair, wide blue eyes and a sharp, handsome face that he was renowned for using to enchant many (male or female, he'd pretty much shag anyone) wearing the same bright orange parka he had since young childhood. He hadn't changed much personality wise, from what I could tell, I hardly knew him, but one thing I did notice about him was that he was a bundle of complexes and his slow decent to madness. On more than one occasion I had found him talking (to himself or others) about his supposed 'Immortality', raving like a lunatic that anytime he 'died' others would simply forget and he would be resurrected, he was a strange fellow. His friends would just dismiss it with a laugh and say that he should stop talking about his fantasies and that it was getting old. I recall that this had been happening since childhood but now he seemed to beg for any others to believe him. At times I would stumble upon him with this sad, solemn look that only the desperate had. I would have attempted to approach him, seeing as he was one of the few to simply avoid me than attack me but simply didn't have the courage and I feared that he would snap and turn on me. Funnily enough, once **he** was the one to approach me, rambling and raving to my face, I had been outside my apartment, for some reason simply admiring the height of the building.

"ke-ke-Kenneth, Kenneth, calm down, explain w-what you're trying to say" I had said, inside I was terrified of what he could do, he looked like he was both panicked and overjoyed as he shook my shoulders.

"you, you saw it right." He said, as he stopped shaking and moved back, the desperate smile on his face "you saw me, I fell, right from the top of that building, the one you came out of. Didn't you see, I was splattered against the floor, I was dead, yet, here I am. You have to remember, right, maybe being constantly bullied clicked something so you can remember, right... right." He said, almost on the verge of tears as he ushered the last sentences. He was barking, stark, completely mad, it was strange that he seemed completely stable when he hadn't 'returned from the grave.' ' _What on earth had happened to him'_ I thought.

"no, no Kenneth, I didn't see you die, you're right here, how could I. Listen, um, just, just, um... just try and find some help, I know you don't know me, but, find something to keep your mind off of the... immortality" I said, I was just rambling to try and get him away from me, I was scared out of my mind. He looked, with that desperate gaze, before his face fell, and he stared at the floor.

"Everyone, fucking everyone... maybe you're right" he said, turning and walking away. He didn't punch and kick me for my words or recommendations, just walked away. Him and his friends always did that whenever they saw that I was in trouble, just walk away, I didn't blame him, it was bad to make too many enemies in this town.

Some may have considered him worse because he didn't intervene but I was simply glad that some would chose not to assault me. Indeed he did insult me when I was a child but so did anyone with sentient thought in this town.

The other person was Stanley Marsh, from what I could tell, like Kenneth; he was much the same as he was when he was a child. Wearing a brown jacket, white t shirt and jeans as well as a dark blue hat with red edges, with shaggy hair that reached from underneath the hat to the top of his neck, it had a dark blue tint to it but it was primarily black. He had a pointed chin but slightly puffed cheeks. I believed that he had given up on the on/off relationship he had with Wendy. He looked forward at the class with bored sapphire eyes, resting his head on his right hand. From what I could tell he was doing well academically (possibly due to tutoring from Kyle), I didn't know much about his personal life. He along with Kyle and Kenny were in the 'leaving me alone' category of my peers. He had stopped along with Kyle around year 5/grade 6 when Kyle saw how idiotic it was and Stan followed like the friend he was.

In fact most of that group had left me alone, which I found grateful. Even at rare times Kyle would spark some small talk with me that probably kept me sane. But unfortunately that small group made the majority of people who left me alone so it was only a slim improvement on my childhood.

When the period ended the class shot out like bullets from a Tommy gun, significantly faster than the end of English, probably because we had break for third period. I didn't care much for the brake it was mostly used by me to get to the next period or hide, pathetic.

I waited outside the classroom for Damien, who was getting homework from the teacher, who had insisted that it was essential to catch up on what we were doing.

The Math block was located on the second floor of the main building; it was comprised of six classrooms and an office for the staff. The hallway was decorated with lockers and posters' attempting to promote mathematics; the problem was that they were around twenty years old. The school had tried countless times to get most of the students engulfed in the subjects but unfortunately for them only a handful gave the slightest slimmer of interest.

Staring at the dull scenery, waiting, lost in mindless thoughts, I didn't notice the footsteps to my right until I heard a voice that sounded as if it was stuck in a permanent cold.

"Hey, turn around" he said striking a slight glimmer of fear through my heart, like a pen knife being stabbed through my chest. I froze, his icy tone like real ice, sticking me to my spot, my breath standing at the edge of my mouth. As if standing still would confuse him and he would go away.

I turned my head in dread to the voice's origin to see one Craig Tucker. One of my lesser tormentors, he normally only attacked me when he was steaming with rage because according to him I made a good punching bag. Only on rare occasions would he attack me out of the blue. Sadly this was the former, he was virtually burning alive with untold hatred.

 _'Oh, bugger'_ I thought, my own thoughts holing a quiver as I stared at him. He was averaged height, supporting a blue coat, shirt, jeans and hat. An average face that would normally have a look that seemed to be stuck in monotone but now he wore a glare.

He was alone but unlike Eric I couldn't outrun him. he was simply more athletic than me. In an instant I had been punched in the face, crashing against the lockers with a loud rattle of the old doors.

"So, it seemed your new friend has fucked off, this should be easier than I thought" he said. As fast as a thunderclap he had lifted and pushed me against one of the lockers causing another thud that no one would investigate, the cool metal slammed into my back as if joining him in the attack, the padlock of the lockers stabbing me from behind like a large nail. He was holding me by the neck with his right hand and had his left hand clenched and aimed at my stomach. Before reaction was a viable option for me the fist was firmly smashed against my abdomen forcing me to wretch and choke on my own saliva. A second punch caused said saliva to fly from my mouth and onto the gits' face, which only caused his anger to grow. After he had wiped it of he began attacking with significantly less mercy than before. Every punch felt like a train smashing into my stomach. Again, and again and again he punched and attacked, saliva and blood leaving my body with every assault.

I took the pain with closed eyes until at a sudden they stopped. I opened one eye slowly to see what had caused him to stop his beating. Looking I saw a pale hand tightly griping Craig's blue coated shoulder, following the arm I landed on the face of Damien, his eyes scowling entirely hatred at my assailant.

"Hi there" he said, his voice monotone but still somehow sinister and threatening "do you mind if I ask you why you are attacking Phillip." He asked

"What do you care." he smirked "what are you to him... his guardian angel?"

Damien continued to glare at him with an admirable confidence. "No, I'm not; it's just that he's the only person I've met in this town that I can stand for more than a minute. As well as that I hold a minute slimmer of respect for him because he's had to deal with this shit for most of his life." Damien smiled down at him the glare prominent in his eyes "so leave him alone unless you wish the wrath of hell to reign upon you."

Craig snickered at the statement and moved his arm from my neck, I slumped to the ground gripping the front of my shirt, squeezing my eyes shut and groaning in pain.

"Fine, I'll leave him alone." I opened my eyes enough to see him walk away with his arms tucked in his coat pockets. For a few seconds he stopped before turning only his head around to spare a glance at Damien. "But, just so that you know. You won't be able to defend him forever, and I don't care that you stopped me. Hell I don't even care about him, he was just unlucky to be in my way when I was pissed." He paused for a second and stared directly at Damien "but there are some people in this school that if you were to stop, they will not only kill you, but will make your life a living hell before they do" he waited for a second to let the ominous words sink in before he continued to travel down the corridor "like the fatass, literally everyone's scared of him, he's nearly killed for small reasons and he'll probably actually kill you if you get in his way" he half-shouted to Damien.

After he had walked around a corner a Damien looked down at me with an outstretched arm "you need a hand?" he questioned.

Smiling in gratitude at the gesture I gladly accepted with a "thanks" but as soon as we began walking through empty corridors the pain came back with a unending hatred and Damien had to keep an arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me stable. As he basically dragged me through lightly colourd corridors, worrying onlookers who hadn't seen my face, because if they had, they wouldn't care, slight paranoia struck through me ' _if I could be so easily sneaked up on... what if Eric or Trent gets a hold of me. If Damien decides to intervene, like Craig said, he'll be slaughtered like cattle.'_ I thought in fear. I would have continued my fearful thoughts but I was ripped from them by my new friend breaking the slightly tense silence we held.

"Who was that guy?" Damien said

"H-he's called Craig Tucker, he's really not like that, I guess I just got in his way on a bad day" I replied

"Are you serious, you look like shit, I'm not believing that's just a 'bad day' thing"

"It kind of is" I mumbled, an attempt to be silent, but he heard.

"even if it was, why do you not defend yourself?" he asked glancing over to me.

I turned my head to him "because as you can plainly see I'm not the strongest person and if I were to attempt to, they would only make it worse. Trust me, like Craig said some people in this school are truly insane" I paused for a moment worrying as the image of Eric invaded my mind like a war fleet. "And... if you see one of them wailing on me. Leave me be, it's for the best."

When I turned around I felt him grip my shoulder and I turned my head to see an angry fire like look in his eyes. "Listen Phillip, if I want to defend you, I will. I don't give a goddamned shit about who the hell you say I should allow to harm you, I'm going to do as I wish and you cannot do jack". He let go of me and continued to walk "I'm not losing the only person I can stand" he said not looking back at me.

I looked at his slowly moving form with a thousand questions racing through my mind ' _why_ _ **did**_ _he defend me. Does he simply have a strong moral code or is it some reason I don't understand'_ I got up (the pain had become bearable) and slowly walked behind him ' _and why does he act nicer to me after only knowing me for but a few hours when the people of this town have turned on me for the entirety of my existence'_ I stopped for a second to go over what he had said earlier ' _I cannot allow him to intervene if any of the psychopaths of this school turn on me. This day has introduced something to me that I refuse to lose, he's the only person to show me care right of the bat.'_ This day had truly been one of the best. The acceptance of one person seemed to be the biggest milestone in my life and it had finally been beaten. With a mall, timid smile I fallowed behind him. The only real problem that I could think of in my life seemed to be protecting Damien from Eric or Trent and if I was extremely careful that could be done easily, everything else fell into the background.

We wandered the school, me showing Damien where most of the subjects were so that he couldn't get lost. Eventually after what felt like aeons of walking the bell and we went our separate ways. Damien to Geography and me to History.

As I walked down to my class and entered the grey room to see my space to sit, and one Eric Cartman stationed next to where I would be. I felt both significantly more terrified and sour at the hour to come.


	5. Chapter 5

**And now Chapter 5, also, reviews... um, thanks... I guess. Anyway I still own nothing of the South Park universe.**

Chapter 5

I looked in desperation on where I'd be attempting to learn for the next hour. The room defined the word dull, we sat in tables big enough to fit two in around three identical rows of five tables from one side of the room to the other, moving down . As well as that, the room itself was horribly bland with grey; un-decorated, militaristic walls that made this place seem more like a prison than a classroom. At the front of the room was a main desk for the teacher, holding several books, spare paper, pens and other such things. In the corner of the room was a fat TV screen, supported on the wall by a dusty wooden shelf that looked as secure as fine china. Connected to the TV was an ancient VHS/DVD player. Unfortunately, not only did I have to sit next to the child that would ruin someone's life over something as petty as disagreeing with him, no, it had to be in the lesson that he spreads his goddamned propaganda that only served to irritate anyone listening.

The room smelled damp, like a flood had recently rushed through there, and it reminded me of dead fish. The stench was nothing new, it always had a foul odour, fitting the deceased ascetics that seemed to coat the room. I guess it fit with the subject matter death always reeked in history, or at least that was the main thing that you were taught, wars, slaughters, murderers, everything was about death, nothing was light, only a horribly bland grey.

With a sigh I trudged over to my seat. It was in the first row third table wedged between Eric and the depressing wall. Staring at the empty teachers' desk, waiting and hoping that she would have inexplicably vanished and I would not have to spend a lesson hearing Eric prattle on about his psychotic, genocideal, ideologies.

I glared at the old woman as she stumbled through the door holding too many things in her arms (laptop, books ect) with mutters of "sorry I'm late" and such.

She was an older woman in her mid seventies, with black dyed hair that should have been entirely gray, the hair itself seemed completely grease covered; wrinkles covered her pointed, crow like face, a large mole was stationed next to a crude, frowning mouth that displayed an almost permanent look of anger. The fact that she was still working impressed me but even though she did go to work she hardly actually put any effort into preparing the lesson. She scanned around the classroom, swiftly and calculating. She wore a black blazer that seemed to hold as much grime as her hair and an overly short skirt that almost displayed her privets to the world, she was worse than some of the girls of the school, at least in provocative dress sense. The elder teacher plastered a hefty amount of makeup on her face, as if she was attempting to give the illusion of seeming younger than she was but her ageingface told otherwise.

She dropped the items in her hands carelessly onto her desk at the front of the room and closed the door. As the door slowly closed and clinked to a shut, echoing throughout the silent room as if it were a cave, she turned quickly towards the class.

"well, once again we're going keep learning about the Holocaust" she said in her gravelly voice, which sounded more like a birds cry than a person's speech.

"What is it specifically that we are learning today Miss Averon, please" Cartman said in a sickeningly polite voice that shone like the sun with queer perverse glee. 'Of course he would be overjoyed' I thought staring daggers at him at the side of my vision.

Looking down at him from the other end of the room with an off placed smile on her crude features she cawed "well Eric, were going to learn of how the Nazis rose to power and killed the Jews."

In one, curious glance to see Eric's reaction I saw a horrible Cheshire smile plastered on his pudgy face. I shuddered at his insane pleasure and focused on the teacher, her own look was not much of a trade though. She presented a VHS that was riddled with brown stains and a label placed over the original title with illegible writing on with the only indication of its subject matter being a swastika on the edge of the label. As the video was inserted to the player it made some unhealthy clunk like sounds and the TV screen burst to life with surprising energy, to static that lasted a full minuet until the video itself started.

The quality of the video was abysmal; it seemed as if the video itself had been played over a thousand times. There were two prominent static bars at the top and bottom with the still visible video in the centre being very grainy.

It started with a slide show of corpses and a narrator speaking of the atrocities done to attempt the genocide of the Jewish. I could virtually hear the overjoyed squeals and moans of pleasure by Eric as the narrator went into morbid detail about methods of mass annihilation, I only paid it a small amount of attention. There was no real point in watching it; Eric had already preached of every and any way the Nazis killed in order to frighten the school with his knowledge, so the need pay attention was minimal at best. In my half-watching I noticed that the video had went into static for a brief moment then the video continued, yet another display of why this school was rotting like an old apple.

It seemed that I was the luckiest guy on earth as Eric kept his attention directed solely on the screen through the hour long session of pointlessness. I don't even know why he found it interesting, probably because it depicted his most intimate fantasies, but there was no reason to learn from it, even by a solely history standpoint, he already showed that he knew every small detail about how to commit genocide. Eventually the bell went once again and with a sigh of relief I lagged out the door, last, like always.

As I walked through the hallways, keeping behind a larger group so I could not be noticed, I was put to a halt by a hand on my shoulder that scared me out of my skin. Quickly spinning to see who my assailant was, I only saw the shivering form of Tweek. The coffee addict had not changed much in the years, still wearing messy clothes with rugged, un-brushed, light blond hair, standing with a slightly slouched foreword pose and shaking as f he was in arctic, he looked me in the eyes with his strangely bright blue ones. The only thing that had really changed was that he had stopped screaming about 'pressure' but the payoff wan an incessant stuttering.

"H-h-hey, s-sorry f-for what Craig did to y-you, ya-ya know h-he really didn't mean anything b-b-by it, right?"

I revealed the warmest smile I could fake at his words, they were probably not true in reality but they comforted me slightly. "I understand 'ol chap, he was probably wound up, I understand" I said, nodding at him.

He gave a small smile "t-thanks, i-I'll tell him off f-f-for you" he paused for a small moment "h-hay, what's the new guy l-like, you seem to be g-getting along qui-quickly"

"Yep, were gettin' along just fine, anyway... I'd think we should get to the next lesson" I said, I didn't mind his company but I didn't want to be noticed by his friends, he was nice to talk to, they weren't.

He nodded "s-s-sure, l-let's go" and he began walking silently down the corridor. Tweak had been one of the people who would genuinely sit down and talk with me; on many occasions he had stopped me from going mental and trying to harm someone, probably saved my life, if I had acted I would have been the one to go down. He wasn't really my friend, he mostly stayed with his group and when he'd converse with me it would be only for a few minutes or so, I think the longest conversation we held was for about half an hour. They were no long and emotion filled conversations but they were enough to keep me going and I thanked him for that. To be frank, he was a nice chap, somewhat paranoid, but nice.

We made our way towards forth period (I had Spanish) silently until we parted without a word. I had no idea what Tweek had, I really paid no attention to what other people had for lessons, and there was no real reason to.

The languages area of the school was a colourful one, with multi coloured lockers and words like 'hello' plastered around the walls in several different dialects. Populating the area were two lines of students, one towards French and the other towards Spanish, thank god that the was no German, I didn't want to see Eric for two periods in a row, even if it was only for a few minutes of time. We were slowly filtered into the class; I was sat in the front of the room in between two other class mates that I did not know well.

I had chosen Spanish instead of French in order to lessen the mocking but I was still insulted for not choosing French as "I was the Frenchman, why would I not pick a language I already knew." I couldn't get away with anything in this place without having someone attack me.

I was kept alone in the class as my teacher (an upbeat French woman who was fluent in Spanish, English and French so the learning part of the lesson was not hard.) throughout the lesson I spoke not once, I kept my head down and wrote what the teacher instructed us too. The lesson was quite boring as I learnt nothing in particular; I had already known the phrases and tenses she had been attempting to teach us so I had nothing to do.

The class ended with a silent walk, that surprised me immensely, the people who had chose Spanish were normally the ones who had nothing else to choose.

I waited until the others had riffled through the block and I was left alone once again to continue my senseless wandering in silence. I simply waited out lunch; there was nothing better to do.

Eventually I found myself inside the cafeteria, the building was stuffed with teenagers of an abundance of ages, it was split in two areas a large dining hall littered with tables and a kitchen/shop to buy lunch. The single room had a low golden glow due to a conjunction of the lighting and the rays of sunlight that shone through windows on the higher area of the cream walls. A humid stuffiness filled the room that gave an itch to my skin that quickly became irritant to the touch of my clothes.

Frowning at my pointless reason to enter the overcrowded room I quickly turned to leave but was interrupted by a hand turning me back around. I slowly staggered as my vision dizzied at the sudden movement. Eventually I managed to gain a slight bearing of my surroundings and in front of me I saw the tall, black covered, pale figure of Damien towering over me with crossed arms and a flat look engraved on his face, staring at me.

"You ok?" he asked, I looked at him with still slightly dazed eyes. Behind him I saw Eric and his cronies behind Damien, Eric with crossed arms and a look of disappointment and his worshippers dumbfounded. 'What happened' I thought with a quick raised eyebrow at behind him but I instantly turned my attention back to Damien.

"I'm fine, thank you, what was it you-"

"Cool, let's go" he said sharply, cutting me of, than he wrapped one arm around my front and virtually dragged me outside of the large brick building, into the overpowering, blue cold of the abandoned outside.

Once we had left the building he moved to the side of it, led onto the plastered wall and gave a large exhale of breath. What on earth had happened? What had he said to Eric? I dearly hoped that he hadn't got onto his bad side.

"Thanks for appearing when you did, I don't think I could handle another minuet with that gluttonous bastard child"

"Not a problem. But- wait, I thought you liked sin?" I asked, confused by his words.

He gave glance to me and voiced a light chuckle. "Ah, Philip... I indulge sin but even I have limits, people like the gluttonous one, Eric, was that his name? Are disgusting whores to me. I work to help myself as long as no one undeserving of harm, is harmed. He is a pathetic cur to existence and it is his own stupidity and Self-deceit that will earn him a seat in the layers of hell, a repulsive wretch who I wish for the lord of darkness to punish and wrack vengeance upon him for eternity." He said in an uptight and preacher like voice, that reminded me of a self righteous presenter for some kind of radical movement, before descending to stuttered chuckles "At least that is what my father would say, hell, saying it out loud makes him sound more Christian than Christians... but no, that fat bastard is an asshole and pisses me off." He remarked with a smirk.

"I see now, oh-and I'm terribly sorry if I am intruding but what was it that Eric was talking to you about?" I asked. In reply the smirk grew on his pale face.

"You don't have to be so formal Phillip, and it was nothing important, he was simply telling me that I shouldn't hang out with you because, apparently, you are a 'filthy Frenchmen' but I swear you said you were English."

"I am, it's just an insult that used to aggravate me but it's simply hollow now"

"You really haven't had it well here have you?" he asked still displaying the same monotone look.

"No, no I really haven't but I must say things seem to be getting better but only by a small bit." At that we stood, slightly awkwardly waiting for the thick tension to break.

"Anyway... so, what are you planning to do after school ends, go to college, travel, anything"

"Oh, I don't really know what I'll do, maybe I'll move, start a new life away from this wrenched place"

"I can see why, this place is simply boring, and with what you have had to endure, I've only been here two days and I'm probably going to move myself"

"I can understand why, there is nothing important or enticing in this town. Only the cold and snow."

"True, I only moved here because my dad wanted some 'fresh mountain air' as he put it" he mumbled some other sentence but all I could understand were the curses lacing his lowered speech then he sighed to himself "Anyway, what do we have last?"

I informed him that we had science (more specifically chemistry) and we made our way there, silently and uninterrupted (surprisingly.)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: and Chapter 6... well here you go, this one may be a bit worse as i am trying to write a suspense scene... so yeah. I don't own this and all that jazz.**

Chapter 6

We ended up at the science area before the bell and set ourselves down in the empty classroom, (the teacher wouldn't care, when he saw me he would presume I was hiding and leave it at that.) the silence passed in seconds that ticked like hours, waiting for the class to actually start, but no teacher came to the room.

Damien eventually stood, clearly bored, and walked towards the marble counter that circled the entire room, it was loitered with Bunsen burners, beakers and other such equipment, and brought a hip flask from the inside of his trench coat.

"What are you doing? Is that alcohol?" I asked as he began undoing the top of the metallic container at a snail's pace, as if he was intentionally attempting to build suspense with each mouse like squeak of the twisting metal. He gradually turned the silver cap until the lid fell off and descended to the floor below, bouncing and clanging against the light blue flooring.

"No, it's not Phillip... well, in a sense, just simply something to waste time" and with that he poured a small amount of the clear liquid within on the counter, until a sizable pool had been produced. "It's Ethanol, technically alcohol, a brilliant substance, is it not?" He said revealing a matchbox, and a match, that he promptly rubbed against the side of the box, sparking the red tip and lighting a tiny flame that he quickly let go of, allowing it to flutter down onto the pure alcohol, producing a hurricane of panic through my body. ' _Oh no, oh no, what if the teacher comes in, I'll be reported and if I am... I'll be forced back into the orphanage. No, no, no, no.'_ I thought in panic as the fire made contact with the liquid and it instantly erupted into a miniature blaze. I was rooted to the spot, like the flame had entranced me, but it was truly a complete panic that had stuck me to the chair as if super glue was smeared onto the seat. A thousand separate scenarios trampled over each other in my mind, all of them with the worst outcome _'let no one walk in, let no one walk in, please god don't let anyone walk in'_ I pleaded uselessly to myself.

The flames life began to fade after a few seconds but Damien poured more of the alcohol to rejuvenate it to its' former bright orange glory. The licking flames rose, as if attempting to embrace Damien for enlonging its life, as he consistently forced it higher and higher with small drips of Ethanol. He was clearly skilled at doing this, with the almost romanticized elegance that he shook the flask to conserve as much of the substance cradled inside as possible.

Slowly, my fear of being caught finally broke and the panic grew too large "c-could you please stop?" I asked, quivering, pathetic with the fear that the teacher would enter the classroom, punish me and Damien and then the Orphanage would not be able to plead that I could fend for myself and I'd be forced to return. It may have seem a bit pedantic and clown like to worry so much about going back but I had grown accustomed to living on my own... that and the orphanage was a place that brought horrors of the worst imagination, at least to me, most of the other orphans enjoyed it there, I was just the odd one out.

He spared me a single glance as a small smile adorned his face and he began to pick up and twist the lid back onto the flask, still admiring the quickly fading flame.

"Beautiful, isn't it, like a writhing spirit, twisting and turning, attempting to reach a far away salvation" he said, trance-like, with the soft smile still on his normally straight face. I observed his object of fascination, wondering what was going through my new friends head, what was it that made this flame so… intriguing to him? Hopefully didn't try to burn the school down, I didn't take him for a pyromaniac, then again I hardly knew him. I liked the learning that school brought just the side effect of the other students was a downside, that and I wanted to be able to get a job far from the town when I had come of age and struggling through school would heighten my chances. If he was some kind of pyro, and for some reason burnt it to a crisp, which would savagely downgrade my chances, as well as that I didn't want to think ill towards Damien, he **was** the only person to speak to me for more than half an hour.

He stared at where the flame once was, the soft smile still there like it had been painted on, "but no salvation came" he said, if we weren't in a science lab the smell of smoke and flames would have tainted the air but it was dampened by the overpowering stench of chemicals that wafted around in the air, it wouldn't be noticed in the slightest.

"Why are you shaking?" Damien asked. I hadn't realized that he had turned to me or that I was indeed quivering, like a child who thought there was a monster under the bed. "I won't do that again then, hell, you look like you decided to run outside naked."

"It's nothing to be worried about Damien" I replied. In actuality I was terrified that I could have been caught, and I refused to go back to the orphanage, I'd rather end myself.

He left it at that and we only waited a few brief moments for the bell to go and the room was filled with reluctant, trudging students. Like all the other core subjects (the core subjects being Maths, English and Science) we had our Tutor group instead of sets split by skill and knowledge, because this school was ran by idiots and people who didn't care at all.

I was between Kyle Broflovski and Clyde Donovan, Clyde normally would have teased me but hadn't that lesson, most probably due to him being told about how Damien protected me in front of Craig (who was tightly knit in his group) and he would dare not attack when outnumbered, even if it was ME and anyone else he was faced against. He was a coward, simply put.

The lesson dragged on and on, time itself seemed to slow down so I would be stuck in the room for longer. I took notice that teacher had spent most of the lesson getting Damien prepared for the upcoming lessons (we had been doing work on bonds between particles), I sort of felt sorry for him, and anyone who had to transfer to this school, they always were bombarded with homework. I already knew what was being taught, countless hours of reading science, and other nonfiction, books in my spare time made almost every subject simple and boring. I even managed to pick up a few bits and pieces for other lessons in my countless hours of unnecessary research.

Once the final bell of the day rang through the school like a rebel's scream of freedom, my other classmates quickly rifled out of the room, me behind them and Damien trailing next to me, still bored. We walked in silence through the school until we reached the gated exit.

"Hey, are you doing anything today?" he asked stopping me in my tracks.

"No, not particularly why?"

"I guess this sounds a bit strange, but would you be ok with taking me on a tour of your 'wonderful' town? It'd be good to know the area."

I beamed him a true smile, from this one day I was certainly spending a lot of time with him, I wasn't sad about that.

"It would be my pleasure, well, follow me and I'll show you around."

"Thanks" he stated flatly and I led him outside the aged building and walked him down the cracked and snow smothered stone slab paths, describing who lived where and what all the little shops and such were about. I told him about where to avoid, about where the individual groups stay and where to head if thing go awry. Every now and then he would but in with a question or remark but he was mostly stoic and quiet through the whole expedition as I rambled on and on about the small, confined, and almost gated community.

Once or twice he asked about why I went into such intense and described detail on what areas were safe and what ones were not in which I could only reply with brief descriptions of past experiences where I had been left battered, cold and alone. Years upon years of running had taught me many things on surviving in this place, and if Damien was intent on staying with me, even though it probably wasn't safe, I knew that he would have to have an idea where to head if he was on the receiving end of Eric, Trent, Craig, Token or any of the others.

It wasn't until we had gone halfway through the silent and isolated town that Damien had pointed out the time, that I had been merrily avoiding, in favour of trying to learn about my new companion, I was pretty sure it had only been about half an hour.

"It's nice hearing you ramble on about all the nooks and crannies of this cesspool but time is running out, I mean, it's night" he said.

I looked quizzically until I realised he was indeed correct, the half moon was standing directly above us as stars shone down, thousands of miles away from the eternal black void of space. had I been so absorbed in talking that i had lost track of time? I didn't even notice the lack of people walking the streets, how? I must have been really carried away. "Oh dear me, you're right, I apologise immensely for wasting your time Damien, I'm so sorry." I rambled trailing on and on with apologies, at a thousand words a second.

I was interrupted from my panicking fit by a deep, resonating laughter that shook me from my position, as if a lightning bolt had struck me dead on.

"wh-what are you laughing at Damien?" I asked

"You Phillip, oh dear god, you" he barely said, stopping to laugh or snicker at every individual word.

I stood there, staring at him in embarrassment and confusion as he gripped his stomach to contain his outburst, although it was ineffective. The laugh was strange to see come from him, the picture he had painted for himself over the day clashed with what he had was presenting now. When I had first seen him I expected him to be silent and observant, very much unlike what he showed.

Once he recovered he looked up at me still chuckling slightly "oh, Phillip I've never seen someone worry about something so small, there's no reason to apologise about nothing." He straightened himself up and returned to his generic flat look "anyway, should we continue this tomorrow" he questioned "or we could continue today, dad shouldn't care if I get back late, he knows I can look after myself... or do you have something to do?"

I didn't even ponder on what I should do before nodding and replying.

"Well, if you're not doing anything, it wouldn't hurt to keep going on" I would likely have stayed up the entire night anyway so there was no point in going to wait at home for the sun to rise.

We continued to wander for an hour through my constant ramblings until we passed through Maple Street into the town square. My voice broke off midsentence when we finally moved into full light of the center of town. The town square was more of an oversized four way junction that housed the town hall, as well as some of the more popular community owned stores. It was strikingly dark, even for such a late time of night, every window hid their secrets under a black veil and the streetlights only cast a meager, almost useless illumination. Even the moon itself seemed dimmer, as if it was depressed by the dark. the desolation made me feel as if i was alone, isolated, even with Damien next to me I couldn't shake that feeling away. I guess it was because I was so used to venturing to this part of town that the sight of such barrenness was unusual. The wind creeped past me whispering illegible secrets in a faint tone, I could no longer feel the wind's chill, a new cold had taken its place. I couldn't place it, I felt a strange fear that I hadn't ever felt before, something completely different than what I felt when chased down streets and hallways.

Then I heard it, in a alleyway to my right… the sound of quiet footsteps, a noise that had become incredibly familiar to me. I was surprised that i had heard it myself. I turned towards the sound and only a pitch black alleyway greeted me, ' _it's probably just a cat or something like that_ ' I reasoned with myself but I knew that it wasn't that, the footstep had been too heavy to be a small animal. I don't know what it was that made me so scared, maybe the dark set of some kind of innate primal instinct that told me to run, to hide, to do anything but stand still and wait for the footstep to have come from a psychopath who would kill me without remorse. ' _It's just paranoia, nothing to worry about, there's probably nothing down there, you're fine_ ' I tried again but my self reassurance brought no calmness. In the back of my mind I could only think of horrible scenario after horrible scenario.

"Phillip, are you ok, what's wrong" Damien asked, turning me to look right at me. then I heard it again, the footsteps, they were still faint, but they were there and they were getting louder, it may have still been paranoia bread by years of expecting the worse but I refused to take the chance.

"Nothing, h-hey, um, do you think we could finish this tomorrow, I think the night is getting to me" I said, a quiver worming its way into my tone like a parasite. The movement grew closer and I spared another short glance in its direction to see the dark, foul smelling and damp open air corridor of stone, but no psychotic murder to threaten us, still covered in the blanket of night. For a few seconds the footsteps continued but there was still no one visible, the dark really must have been weighing down on me.

"Sure, fine" he said reaching into his inside coat pocket "I'll grab my key and head on home" he riffled through the inside for a few seconds before sighing with a mutter of "shit" before he looked back up, his face still straight but a faint tint of red contrasting with his snowy skin. "I might of left my key at home and dad is probably unconscious, damn it all" he continued on a small string of curses when I heard the movement once again, closer and closer it moved forward, probably just my imagination though, but worrying anyways.

' _Just a precaution'_ I thought as I strode forward, grabbing Damien by the arm and dragging him behind me while he tried to regain his composure. I jogged from the streetlamps glow into the blind like dark, the only visible thing being the other streetlamps in front of us. "You can stay with me for the night" I stuttered, the parasitic quiver having grown fat and more prominent. ' _Anything to get away from that goddamn alleyway'._

"Th-thanks" he said as he got out of my grasp and caught up with me, we kept at a steady pace, the freezing cold of the day before was nothing in comparison to the fear that had awoken to the unending darkness that looked to hug our town like a vice. "I'll pay you back somehow."

"N-no need, con-consider it a gesture of friendship" I uttered quietly, I wanted nothing but to get back home quickly. The third time in a row where I had to rush home at the end of the day for a slight comfort, I was hoping that this strange trend wouldn't persist.

He was probably completely confused as to why I was rushing home, I must have looked insane with how I was so scared of nothing. the fact that I had basically dragged him halfway to my home didn't improve matters.

We continued to jog in the darkness, it was as if no one besides us was awake in the town, every light was off and the only sound was our speedy footsteps thumping on the sidewalk drowning out the nonexistent pursuer.

It took us ten minutes to arrive, out of breath to the large apartment building. The moon shone from behind it, casting a large shadow that crept towards us as the building seemingly lead in our direction as if to flatten us like bugs. All the lights were out, like all the other buildings in the street and only our deep breath could be heard. The large construction was quite intimidating as it loomed ominously over our heads as I slowly inserted the key into the lock, pulling the door open and quickly closing it behind me as soon as Damien entered. Once it was safely closed I turned to stare at the street, only the outlines of the nearby buildings could be seen through the mist and darkness but I also saw no person and even if there was one, I was safe inside. ' _Just my imagination'._

With a deep inhale I led Damien to my apartment, gave him the bed to use for the night which he took with no opposition. I offered to wash his clothes for the next day but he declined saying he would leave early to get ready at home and he fell into the covers where he drifted off into rest. I simply stayed up, I wouldn't sleep after my paranoid fear from earlier, I was tempted to make myself believe that the event in the alleyway was nothing but paranoia but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was infact someone down the murky backstreet .

The thought completely terrified me, my tormentors would normally harm me head on, I could recall only a single instance where one Eric Cartman had planned an attack towards me, but that event was something I didn't want to recount. If it was that I was correct that my paranoia was false than I could only fear for myself.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: so... chapter seven... here you go. Also, reviews... um, thanks :)... don't really know what else to say. here you go.**

Chapter 7

At around half six Damien awoke and left with a simple "thank you." Slowly, I began to work on my daily errands: washing, cleaning the (already clean) rooms and the likes, waiting for my phone to ring. I was expecting a call from someone at the orphanage to see if I was alive and then they'd leave me at that, this was one of the two things they did for me, call me every Tuesday and give me a cheque at the end of the month to both pay bills, feed myself and get some things on the side with the spare.

The reason they had actually let me live on my own was because I had been a nuisance at the orphanage. I never tried to be one but my presence just brought bad luck by being around so many people. By the fifth trip to the hospital I had already been in the midst of relocating to the hospital.

An hour flew quickly, I had been called by a woman with a voice that reeked with the sound of cigarettes and complete boredom. A few short words were exchanged and she had hung up, the average conversation between me and anyone else.

I was ready to make my way to school. Instead of wearing my formal attire, I couldn't be asked to go through the hassle of getting well dressed; I instead opted to wear a simple blue hoodie and jeans. That and I think I may have subconsciously taken to heart Damien's request of me to be less formal. Checking the time, twenty to eight, I decided to walk to school, after the previous day I had finally realised how quickly I could get to school by walking (while avoiding my tormentors) and that was an enticing option. I was astounded that it hadn't arose in my thoughts any time before, I had become so indoctrinated into my daily routine that a simple change like that was the most strange thing to consider.

The sidewalks were crowded with people trying to get on with their daily lives, the sound of countless footsteps moving speedily was calming, hearing them, they gave the impression of moving in unison, like the continuing march of an army. The constant footsteps, like a lovely piano piece that I could listen to for eternity. I couldn't fathom a recent time before this week that I had felt so calm, so at ease, it was like god had given up on laughing at my torment and instead had given me a needed massage to alleviate the sadness that had been growing over the past few years, like mould in my mind. For the first time in over a decade, a small, true smile graced my lips with its wanted presence. I had normally feigned to smile when it seemed appropriate, I had never had a reason to make such a gesture in this town nor had I ever been offered the emotional chance to display any real joy.

It was as I was walking that realization fell on me, slowly, fluttering into my thoughts like a slowly falling feather that had been chipped from a bird soaring through the air. I was no longer destined to be a lone friendless recluse; I knew the torment would continue, it always did. I could never disagree that it was an endless cycle of beatings, insults, spitting and kicking down at my worthless and weak body; I'm not the type of person to lie. Although I had finally discovered that potentially, I would no longer have to handle with my pain internally.

Eventually I had moved from crowded streets to the largely vacant hill that rose towards the school and I remembered why I originally didn't have the idea to walk to school. The hill was more like a cliff with how hard it was to trudge up it; I was surprised that the bus even made it halfway. I was heavily out of breath by the time I had reached the top, only around fifty meters from the school. Why they isolated it in such a place, far from the main town was completely beyond my comprehension, but I persisted towards the large building. As I moved, the crunching of the snow beneath me seeping through my shoes and soaking my feet, I saw small flakes of white slip from the clouds like a thousand scraps of shredded paper. ' _If it wasn't cold enough_ '

As I slowly approached the building, barely five meters gone behind me, I heard a slimier sound of crunching snow, being squashed by an overpowering shoe or boot behind me. Turning in intrigue I saw a familiar figure, the platinum haired man who had been loading boxes into Damien's' house. _'His father perhaps'_ he was tall and lean, his lanky form standing out like a speck of black in the field of white. He was young, only in his late twenties but with platinum hair that had been platted back into a ponytail, he wore a simple red jacket and jeans. On his face was a wide smile as he looked down on me, his eyes, like Damien's', a strange red, although they looked older, greyer than Damien's' bright, almost hypnotizing orbs. They held a look of glee and care-freeness, almost like an opposite to what i had mostly seen Damien show.

"Hello there" he said, looking down at me, it was strangely... oppressive, his gaze, as if he was pushing down on me with his sight alone. "I was wondering, I'm new to this town and I've only been there once, and you look to be a student, I can't fully remember… is that building over there, the school perhaps?" his voice was deep with a overjoyed chipper tone, he just beamed pure happiness.

And it unsettled me immensely.

"Indeed it is, sir" I replied an awkward smile displayed on my face as I tried to be polite.

"Good, good, would you mind if I accompanied you, I can't fully remember where to go in the building itself and if you could help me I would be eternally grateful"

"y-yeah, sure, sure, follow me" I stuttered, nervous at the strange glee, in this town, normally everyone had a cynical air about them, and the difference he brought was almost scary.

"Well then, let's get on our way"

"R-right-o, yeah" I said and we barely walked a minuet until he restarted conversation.

"Thank you for this, by the way, my names Lucas, you?"

"Ph-Phillip, Phillip Pirrup, nice to meet you" I said turning to look at him, still providing the same, awkward smile.

"Phillip... Phillip, Phillip, Phillip" he said quickly. "I recall that name" he stood still for a second, looking up at the sky as I watched him, curious at his eccentric behaviour. "Ah, I remember, Damien said that he had met a Philip yesterday, let him stay at his house. I guess that that is you?"

"Y-yes, that is me, you're Damien's' father?" I asked, it was obvious, I know, but I just wanted clarification, he was so different to Damien.

"I thought that would be obvious, with the eyes"

"yeah I guess so" I replied sheepishly, we were nearly at the gate, only a minute or two and he would be away from me, I still didn't know why but I wanted to get out of this situation, I needed to.

"you know, I'm proud of him for making a friend this quickly, people normally turned him away because of our... beliefs" he stopped again, turning me around to face him with his hand resting on my shoulder and that unsettling smile still plastered on his face.

"Thank you" he said, staring directly into my eyes

"Not a problem chap" I replied, feigning chirpiness. If it were anyone else, I probably would have been genuinely smiley, well... maybe not everyone else, but he gave me the same chills that being in proximity of Eric or Trent produced. He raised a strange otherworldly vibe in the thin air that didn't feel right, didn't feel natural.

Slowly and silently we made our way to the building, until we had reached the open gate, no one was around, much like the day before, it was completely desolate, although unlike the previous day this was because hardly anyone was in the building. Only three cars were parked, the school must have been unlocked, but basically people-less. I was virtually alone with this man and that brought a strange terror I didn't know existed. I don't even know **why** I was as terrified as a hostage around him, he seemed nice, caring even, but even at that, the eldritch horror he produced like a natural pheromone had taken hold of my mind.

Once we had reached the steps to the main doors, I turned to face Lucas; he looked down on me, reminding me of a gleeful vulture staring intently down to its whimpering prey. Even through my unease and scared shyness I had to vocalize a question that had been ripping at my mind.

"Wh-why are you here alone and Damien is not?" I asked

He looked with a short burst of surprise before reverting back to his godforsaken smile.

"Ah, Damien needed some time to get ready and I have to have a rather short conversation with the headmaster, also, it's a bit early to be getting to school isn't it? This place is so small that I'm surprised they even have a bus." He replied

He obviously hadn't seen the full scope of the town, it normally didn't seem big at first but once you took the full scope of the place it seemed comparable with New York City.

I turned, opening the door for him to go in; he took the offer gladly, strutting past me into the baby blue, locker covered, corridor. I gave him directions to the headmaster's' office and he left with a bright "thank you again", that, like the other times, unnerved the hell out of me.

 _'What was that'_ I thought as he turned a corner, his platinum hair bobbing out of view. Shaking my head to remove the image of his eerie smile from my head, I realised that my heart had slowed to a regular beating, I hadn't even noticed that it had been racing near the man, I was to concentrated on the fear to notice. Before long I found myself beginning to wander deeper into the labyrinth of the school, just until my tutor room was unlocked.

When i began to turn the first corner, someone gripped onto my back, lifting me like a pillow and slammed me into the wall. My entire body banging with a dull sting as I collided, creating a soundless thud. As soon as I had realised I was under attack, I had been thrown backwards, sliding against the ground to hit the opposite wall, whacking only my head, sending my senses haywire for a brief moment before I recognised my assailant.

Nearly six feet tall, with blond hair that held like a military tower with a generous amount of gel and furious amber eyes stood Trent Boyett. His somehow unmarked face wore a constant look of hatred that never seemed to change. Even in the freezing weather, he wore torn jeans, a black vest and a red checked shirt that had been ripped at the arms so he could show off his gargantuan muscles.

I wasn't safe, I realised in horror, no matter where I went, how I moved in this town, it all led to a similar outcome. Only this one was from the second most feared person in this school as opposed to the first.

He reached down and gripped my neck, stopping my flow of air in a second before slamming me into the wall once again.

"It's a good thing I saw you outside my girlfriend's window you bastard." He said in his naturally menacing tone. Why had he stayed at someone else's house? i had already gone through the task of going through the town to intentionally miss my tormentors abodes and my luck just seemed to fail me again. "otherwise you'd hide behind that new emo kid like the fag you are, you little bastard" he screamed, slamming me once again, trying to knock the air out of me but his lockjaw like grip held it in. I wouldn't be surprised if he had dented the wall with the force that he slammed me.

"If you try to fucking hide from me, I'll join the fatass and we'll fucking kill that kid, you understand, I'm letting you have a nice thing for once so be grateful. Do you understand?" He said, I could only weakly nod, my vision had begun to blacken as my body desperately craved air like a drug. I had to do as he said, if I slipped up once, he would kill Damien and with the help of Eric he'd be invincible. No matter to his vendetta against Eric and his original group of friends. _'He'd let up on that, just to harm_ _ **me**_ _of all people?'_

He dropped me, gravity decided to help him in his assault and I fell to the floor, instantly collapsing in a heap, my only movement was to hold my neck where he had gripped me to make sure he couldn't strangle me again. He loomed over me, his shadow covering my body, causing the world around me seem as if he was blocking out the sun itself.

"Remember, I'm letting you have a nice thing now, be happy, you really don't deserve nice things" he said, an ill fitting smile on his face. For once, I didn't want to see another smile, they had become rather creepy recently. For a second he stood there, just staring at me, before his glare returned to his face, he lifted me from the ground and partially into the air by my left arm, dislocating it and bringing a bellowing scream from my body.

"I DIDN'T HEAR A FUCKING 'THANK YOU'" he screamed at the top of his lungs, spitting onto my face before he gripped my arm with both of his hands.

For a second time stood at the end of a tightrope before, like my arm was naught but a twig...

 _Snap_

My eyes widened in shock as a solitary voiceless scream left my mouth and a single punch to the face consumed the world in darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

For the first time in months, my dreams were eventless, no visage of torment, no figure in the dark, just... black, nothing but it, no more things to spook me in my sleep, just an eventless darkness and that made me so unbelievably calm. It was comforting to know that, subconsciously, I knew that no horror of my mind would haunt my restless dreams, like i had been injected with morphine and I was gladly accepting the drowsiness that it brought.

When I awoke, it was to a white room, my entire body - except for my left arm which I could feel had a cast on it but I no feeling came from where Trent had snapped my bone - hurt with a throbbing pain that had become so familiar in recent times. It was in tune with the beat of my heart, every breath, every movement, they all stung my body. a stiff bed was underneath me as well as a thin blanket. I was in the hospital, Hells Pass, the only hospital in South Park. The building was in good shape but the equipment was in drastic need of replacement.

I could see a faint black to my left, turning my head I saw Damien, sitting in a chair next to my bed, he was flicking through an old magazine absentmindedly, and he obviously hadn't known I was awake. _'How long have I been unconscious'_ I thought, obviously longer than school because why would he visit me in school hours.

"H-hello Damien" I uttered, surprising him slightly as he moved the magazine down to look at me.

"Well, you're finally awake. Took your sweet time" he said.

"What happened" I asked in curiosity

"You don't know? He said "I found you stuffed in my locker, completely unconscious, covered in blood and your arm was... not right" it took me a moment to process what he said, Trent wouldn't have done something like this to me, he was the type to beat you and leave you on the ground. _'Oh god'_ I thought _'what if he is actually working with Eric for the mutual benefit of breaking me, oh god, oh god.'_ I repeated in my mind in panic, not aware that Damien was talking to me until he had begun shaking my shoulder.

I snapped out of stupor and turned, my body suffering a twang of pain before readjusting, waiting for him to speak. "Yes Damien" I said

"I said how do you bare with this constant abuse? And the more important matter... who did this to you?" he asked a spark of worry lighting the inferno of anxiety in my mind. If I told him it was either Eric or Trent, like he said yesterday, he'd attack them, and I didn't want him to die.

"I... just, deal with it, you know, and... I don't know, it could be so many people that I have no idea, sorry." I replied, a hitch to my voice. I was glad Damien cared, so, so glad but I couldn't handle it if he died; he was so different, so accepting of me. It was almost unnatural.

He moved closer to me, a glare prominent in his gaze as he slammed he's hands down onto the hospital bed, the thud sounding as if he had slammed against a wooden desk, like an agitated businessmen at a meeting.

"LISTEN PIP, I, I" he sighed "just, tell me, Phillip, tell me. I have the horrible feeling that it will get worse from here, like the calm before the storm. Just tell me and I can stop them, I will be fine, just. Tell me, please" he said the final word with an almost sad twist to it that made my heart fall down my chest and into the pits of my body. I felt so ungodly guilty, like my chest had been cut out and been hollowed, but this was for his own benefit.

"Phillip, I... It was that gluttonous bastard wasn't it, I knew that guy had something wrong with him I-"

"-Don't, please, for the love of god, don't confront him. Please, as-... as a favour, in return for you staying the night please don't confront Eric" I pleaded.

"I, I, ugh, fine, sure whatever" he mumbled "what the hell do you have to be afraid of him, the bastard can barely move five feet?" he asked

"You really don't understand... Eric, he, he's goddamned insane, manipulative, evil... he has a terrifying way with words. Given enough resources, he could probably influence a mass genocide" I replied, even though most didn't show it, everyone was scared that he would snap. If he did, he could damn well take the entire bloody town with him.

"He seems more like a pathetic coward to me, but, I'll take your word for it. If I do find proof that it was him that did this to you, I'll do more than beat him." he said. Why did he seem to care so much, I mean, it was nice, but I'd only known him a day and a bit, and he was already loyal enough to say he'd put his life in danger, just to keep me safe. It confused me.

After his miniature speech, he got up, placing the magazine down onto my bedside table. "Visiting hours are nearly up, according to the doctor you should be good to go back to school by Thursday. Want me to turn off the light when I go out?" he asked, with a curious look I glanced out to the window. It was pitch black, I had been unconscious the entire day!

"Yeah if you could? Thanks" I replied, as he walked out, flipped the switch and plunged the room into almost total darkness. The only light came from the door to the room that slowly closed as Damien walked away from it and within seconds, it was darker, if it wasn't for the glass at the top of the door it would have been completely black.

I tried to think on what had happened to me. Would Eric really get out of bed early just to beat me and stuff me in Damien's locker? even through his determination, he was notoriously lazy. Maybe a teacher, but why would they jeopardise their job to be caught stuffing me in a locker? What teacher had a grudge against me in fact, I couldn't think of any, the head science teacher thought I was a troublemaker but that was it and I hadn't seen his car in the parking lot. Maybe... maybe it was Damien's father, Luke, could it have been him? Had he found me, crumpled on the floor, my arm broken and decided it would be a good idea to shove me in his sons' locker? Why would he do that? his smile was unnerving sure but I didn't think he was completely psychotic. That ruled three people out.

It had to be Trent, but that was such an out of character move that it couldn't be him that did it, even if he did, he would have done something much more violent and threatening. Something like carving 'A gift, to the emo kid' into my chest before shoving me into the locker, so that reduced the possibility of it being Trent, but that left me at a blank.

I led on the bed, only thinking, trying to figure out what the hell was going on when all light went out, as if I had been instantly transported. It had shocked me for a second, the light had been beaming directly on me from the window in the door, now someone was covering it.

Silence smothered the room for a few seconds before, from outside my door, I heard whispering. I strained, trying to understand what was going on. I knew it was un-gentlemanly to be nosey but I had wanted to know what was important enough to block my light.

Listing in, I only heard a few words "one... lord... memory" one whispered voice said before another, a rather old sounding women replied

"Do" that was the last word she had said and the only thing I could understand, they only stood in the way of my light for a minute before the two people walked off. I gave myself a short smile, I didn't know what I was going to find by listening in to two people who obviously just stopped to talk for a bit. I was being too paranoid and anxious.

Eventually light wormed its way back into the room, it couldn't have been too late, but I was sure that I wouldn't be sleeping through the night. Throughout the earth's short spin away from the moon, I did nothing but lay still on the bed, I didn't want to move as that would flare the pain so I just led, as stiff as a board, waiting for the sun to rise. A nurse came into the room once, to make sure I was alright although she only had a brief look around the room before moving onto another patient.

Throughout the night I had the strangest feeling put me on edge. I felt as if someone was watching me, eyes, tentatively staring from outside my window, but no buildings surrounded the hospital. No matter how much I convinced myself, the feeling wouldn't leave, eventually my curiosity grew too big and I decided to have a small look.

I thought about calling the nurse to ask her if she could check for me, but if there was no one there, I would be thought to be mad.

With a sharp intake of breath I raised myself off of the bed, the pain coming all in one second, brining me to my knees. Slowly the sharp sting ebbed away enough for me to slowly stagger towards the window, every step as if glass was being shoved into my legs. What had actually happened to me?

Once I reached the window where the moon shone a small beam of moonlight through, I got a good look at the outside car park. I was on the first floor, near the center of the building. The lampposts brightened the surrounding area well but the center of it was mostly dark, snow fell, piling onto the already packed sidewalks and cars while slowly covering the remaining traces of the main road. The scenery was peaceful but that innate fears of having someone watch you overpowered any comfort the surroundings could have brought.

I looked at the car park, the feeling was coming from there but I couldn't pinpoint it, most of the cars were empty, four cars and two vans (one a plane white Ford the other, a silver Toyota publicizing some kind of plumbing company) held people, probably waiting until visiting hours to see if friends and family were safe, I saw no madman staring directly at my window with a smile on his face, no horrible creature gazing at me with a hungry stare. Just an empty car park. ' _What if there is someone watching from a car?'_ I thought, lighting a new fuse that led to a bomb of paranoia, maybe there was, but they would have hidden back into their hole or led back in their seat, the visage of sleep like a blanket above them. I had no way of knowing if someone was watching me, I could only wait. _'In the morning'_ I planned _'I'll see if there are any cars or vans still with people in by visiting hours, if they stay there, I'll know'_

As always, the sun rose, meekly peeking over the edge of buildings like a confused bystander standing behind a crowd, curious as to what the commotion is. The bright rays filled the room, illuminating it once more, as well as the snow smothered car park.

The feeling of someone watching hadn't left, if there was someone, and I was certain that there was, it **had** to be someone who was staying in their car. I had managed to get an idea of all of them with my fearful journeys to the window, which surely wouldn't be good for my weary body but I didn't care. Huh, this must have been like how Tweek felt when he was ranting about people watching him, maybe not, but I sympathized with him a little more.

By around half five three of the sleeping drivers had awoken, two had already got on their phones and the third was eating. It could have been them, it could have been none. It could have even been no one at all and this was all just a figment of an imagination that had snapped after receiving that last bit of torment to fling me off the edge like a fragile china doll being dropped off a cliff, shattering against the rocky depths below.

Was I simply paranoid, no, the feeling was too strong to just be a figment of my imagination, unless I had truly gone off the deep end.

On my third painful trip to the window in the span of ten minutes I thought ' _what if... what if it was not someone in a car, but maybe Eric or one of his lackeys watching from the distance. That would make sense, he is always prepared, maybe he is planning some heinous plot and it involves me... it wouldn't be the first time.'_ It could have been anyone, it could have even been Damien himself, he could have been waiting on the outside for visiting hours to come although it was probably not. It didn't fell right, it had a dark intention, the feeling, and it was as if I was being watched by a dark spirit and not a person.

When the sun finally rose, confidently, to the sky, the feeling didn't leave. It wasn't an hour until visiting hours and the evil feeling person still watched and I was still unawares as to his location.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So, Chapter 9, sorry this isn't being published faster, basically a mix between procrastination, school, Dark Souls and the other book I'm writing. so, yeah sorry, also,more terrible dialogue.**

Chapter 9

At six o'clock a nurse walked in on my staring out at the window, my body still clenching and squeezed in pain, I had been completely unawares of her as I was too entranced in my attempt of deciphering if it was truly some madman watching me obsessively or if I was the madman. The thought had begun working its way into my mind as soon as the notion became apparent, the world around me was frozen and all I could do was wait to see if the feeling left or my watcher revealed himself, if neither happened... I would declare myself insane. I hadn't even recognised the movement until she had placed her hand on my shoulder, startling me, a shock coursing through my body. How caught up had I been in watching for a possible non-existent watcher? was the chance of this simply being paranoia; enough to warrant me devoiding myself from my surroundings?

She was talking to me, I must have looked like a fool, with a broken arm and injured body... what was I doing at six in the morning, staring out at the car park, probably shaking to keep a hold of my own body. I really needed to make sure my body held, even if the horrible, watching feeling remained, if someone was planning some sort of plot against me, when or if they acted I had to have some energy to run or react or... do whatever had to be done in the situation.

"Are you okay... what are you doing out of bed?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Nothing, I just thought I heard something outside, just a silly thing" I lied with my fake smile plastered on my face. I had became quite good at that, to get out of situations that could mean others confront with my tormentors. I would just display that smile like it was natural and convince whoever it was that I was fine. I didn't enjoy lying or faking happiness, it didn't help me at all and it just made me feel guilty, although the fact that I was good at it didn't assist my guilt.

With slow movements I was led back to the bed, I needed rest, my body was aching everywhere and I had paid it no mind. I quickly collapsed into the covers, I dearly needed to just lie down, the few hours previous had not sated my mind. _'That was probably it'_ I thought ' _it's probably just the lack of sleep that's making me so paranoid'_

It only took a few minutes for my body to completely shut down and I was unconscious like a candle being blown out.

My rest only seemed to last for a few seconds and I was ripped from the darkness by arms shaking me violently. I screamed for a second before a hand covered my mouth, following it I saw the form of Kenneth McCormick, standing over me with wide terrified eyes, bags surround them and he looked on the verge of a panic attack.

"Thank fuck you woke up, sorry man, and if I sound crazy, please don't ignore me, just, just listen to me" he quickly said, "just...-"

"Kenneth... please calm down" I said, light filled the room, I guessed it was passed midday, not too late, the sun was still high. Had he came here straight from school? Why?

"R-right, okay, so... I don't know why the hell I'm telling you this but... okay, so you know that new kid, Damien"

"Yes" I answered, I had no idea what he was doing talking to me, It had to be important, there was no reason for him to otherwise.

"Okay, ever since he got here, I've had this strange felling of someone, near,close by, ya know?" he said, ' _oh god. Oh god, I was right there was something... wait, maybe he could have been blackmailed by Eric to do this, I've heard he can be desperate'_ I thought, I didn't want to doubt him, but I refused to take chances. "w-well, last night I was followed, Jesus all the way to my god-damned house and he just fucking stood outside my window for an hour before leaving." He said, it was as if he was on the verge of stress filled tears, he was telling the truth, that or he should go into acting because my previous doubt washed away like the shore to an oncoming tsunami. "d-did something like that happen to you?"

I paused for a second "y-yes, yes it did Kenneth, by god I haven't gone mad. All through the night it was as if something was watching me, even when I went to check, I could still feel it outside." I wasn't simply paranoid, the feeling was still there. Rising so I was sitting up I took a glance out of the window, I could see it, all the other cars from the night before had left, with the exception of the two vans. Even so far away I could spot them in the car park.

"oh, oh shit this isn't good, who do you think it is, that Damien kid?" he said, provoking my thoughts, it could be Damien, I had only known him a day and his strange acceptance could have been a way to get close to me... but why? I hoped to god that it wasn't him, even though I only knew him for a short time I had come to quite enjoy his company, It was the only company I had had in forever. Maybe It was coincidence or someone acting to make me wary of Damien, again why? Kenneth's reveal only proceeded to add more questions onto the quickly growing pile. It could have been Cartman, it could be that he caught wind of Damien protecting me from Craig and wanted nothing to stand in the way of him harming me and what better way than planting seeds of distrust. Then again it could actually be Damien... I had no idea what to think, I was so lost.

"I-I don't know" I said, pathetic and weak, I was so confused, had it only been me, I could have ignorantly left the previous night's events to tired paranoia but now it had been proven otherwise. I didn't even know if it was indeed one of the people in the vans, it could quite easily have been someone simply watching from outside. It could be that it was someone in the vans but they were all older people, hired goons from Cartman? Damien? Some third party I was unaware of? The questions burned my mind, I craved answers.

"Do you know who?" he asked "who was watching you?"

"I think it might have been someone outside" I said with a quiver shaking my voice, I was genuinely terrified, it could be that I was **really** being watched, stalked, like some type of wild animal, only there to exhilarate the hunter.

Kenneth walked to the window and peeked outside as I thought on what I had done with Damien, was there any signs that he was some kind of psychopath, and had selected me to be some toy in a game. There was the event in science, where he had become almost obsessive on the flame he had created, but that could have been simple fascination. Was I giving the possibility of it being him too much leeway? Probably, but I had come to quite like him and I would hate that the only person to show me attention would turn out to only want to harm me, but why would Kenneth be stalked, what part would he play in it. I then remembered the incident when I was giving Damien the tour of the town, that movement in the alleyways and the scuffling and scuttling, if that was also the same person, or someone connected, to the ones who had been watching me and Kenneth, why would they watch when Damien was so near, if he was the one who had been following Kenneth and/or watching me.

"I see someone in the silver van, he's around thirty, dark blond hair, green jacket, think it was him?"

"M-maybe, I don't know."

"listen pip, I don't particularly mind you, you're no friend, but this has also been happening to you, so." he moved next to my bed and sat on the seat next to it "well, we're in the same sinking ship, do you have any ideas, because I'm freaked the fuck out."

"I don't think it's Damien, I think I was followed by someone else as soon as I was alone with him."

"But Pip, who the fuck else could it be" he said, getting up and walking back to the window, taking another look at the silver van.

"Well speak of the devil and he shall come"

"What do you mean… Damien's here?"

"He's in a car, in a parking space almost right outside the window, he's with some white haired guy, you know him?" Kenneth said

"Yes, his father" I wasn't overjoyed by the prospect of another conversation with the smiley man, even the thought of that happy go lucky grin sent a thunderstorm shiver down my spine.

"Already met the parents, why don't relationships blossom fast nowadays." Kenneth joked, although I didn't see this as the time for humour, I guessed it was some type of mental defence mechanism that he had set up. Or perhaps a part of his slight insanity due to the... 'immortality.' Or it may have been Eric's and others' poisonous words at Kenneth's living conditions, I guess no one was free from the vile insults and hatred the madtown produced like a farms livestock.

In minutes I saw the two forms outside the door, they stopped for a second, I could hear a few short words before the door opened. Everything seemed... slower as the handle slowly turned down, I could feel my heart racing as the door was pushed inwards, it was like I was in the middle of a chase and I had stopped to someone holding a gun to me. I felt as if I was trapped, unable to escape with every exit blocked off. Everything was almost obvious, each inch of the handles decent, I even noticed Kenneth scribbling on a small piece of paper on the window ledge.

The door opened to show Damien, standing at the doorway, he seemed to hold his regular monotone stare but there was something off about it, an odd look of longing in his gaze. But that could just be my newly found paranoia talking, I couldn't tell. His father was standing next to him, still wearing the red coat and regular clothes, with that unsettling, wide cheshire grin on his face as if he was mocking my condition.

"Phillip, Phillip how are you do- hmm, who's your friend?" Lucas asked with a questioning gaze in Kenneth's direction.

Kenneth got up from the window and stood opposite Lucas "The name's Kenneth, Kenneth McCormick, pleasure to meet you" he said with the etiquette of a nobleman, reaching an arm out to shake the smiley man's own. ' _How has he managed to change from panicked to so... calm? If he can change or hide himself so well, is he simply being polite or is he actually a good actor? If so... was he actually lying to me?'_

My questioning thoughts opened now answers and only left with more paths to follow; this just hadn't been my day, or weak.

As he shook hands with the older man and exchanged names, Kenneth dropped something from the pocket of his parka next to my feet, it was a piece of paper, I only caught a glance of him looking at me, probably signalling me to grab it. In response I quickly leaned forward and hid it under the blanket, making it look like I was trying to fix some problem with the bed sheets, I managed to get a quick read of it though, there wasn't much to see, it just said ' _Ask the Damien kid if he knows anything about what happened, you're closer to him.'_ although the movement caught Damien and Lucas's attention.

"So... thanks for visiting Kenneth I'll... get to tutoring you about... math when I'm better" I lied, if I said anything that mentioned last night or our predicament, Damien or Lucas might become curious. Even though Damien may have been the person to watch me, I didn't want him to find out immediately about what was going on. I may be appalling at talking to people but I wanted to subtly tell him, if he was indeed innocent, I wouldn't want him to become involved in a potential Eric Cartman plot.

Kenneth looked at me in bewilderment for a split second before catching on. "Sure, thanks for that." He said with a cheery smile before leaving. As he left he turned and mouthed something. I think he had said 'good luck' but I wasn't sure, If it was, I subconsciously knew I would need it.

"What was that about, I thought you didn't have any other friends?" Damien asked

"Oh, well, basically I sit next to him in maths and I share how to solve equations and such with him and he just came over to ask if I could give him a bit more of a hand, seeing as I have nothing better to do and Kenneth is a pretty nice I guy so I accepted" I explained, I was surprised by my own ability to make stuff up on the spot and make it believable. Hopefully believable at least, Damien didn't question any further.

"How are you doing Phillip?" Lucas questioned

"G-good, I'm recovering at least, how are you two doing?"

"Me and Damien are doing fine, thank you for asking" he stopped for a minute to look at his watch "I should be off, is it okay if you walk back on your own Damien" he said

"Yeah... I should be fine" he replied and Lucas promptly smiled that strange grin at us before he disappeared behind the door himself, leaving only me and Damien. ' _Well, that was rather fast._ '


	10. Chapter 10

**OK** **, Chapter 10, again, this one is being uploaded rather quickly in comparison to what I'd expect from me. Also, more reviews, again thanks, I guess.**

 **Anyways, I don't own this and all that.**

Chapter 10

"How you holding up?" Damien asked, mere moments after Lucas had left the room.

"I'm doing good o'l chap, what have I missed at school?" I asked, I didn't want to get straight to my problem, I wanted to see if Damien had anything suspicious about him, I wanted to believe that he was in no way related to what was happening.

"Well, not much, that Gluttonous Asshole has still been trying to get me into his group.. I declined, oh, and some shaky blond asked if you were ok-"

"Tweek?"

"I think so, that guy who beat the shit out of you was near him by the way, seems like a bit of a dick, didn't even answer when I asked him why he did beat you, fucker just gave me the finger! Anyway, who was the twitchy guy, Tweek?"

"Oh, just someone who would talk to me from time to time, no one really important."

"Wow... you really need to get some new friends you know, so far I've counted two including myself, that is if that Kenny guy is actually your friend. That Tweek guy was actually worried for you and your response is that he is 'no one important' god I need to hook you up with some people or something." He said, it was true, unbelievably so and it was even worse to hear it coming from someone else, even if what he said wasn't entirely true, Kenneth wasn't my friend, Damien was the only person who I would actually consider a friend. I wasn't sad about not having many friends, even if he tried to get me some new ones, they would probably avoid or attack me, it was as if I was some sort of magnet, I attracted those who wanted to harm me and pushed away anyone who wanted to help me, Damien and a select few others were the only anomalies.

"I guess I do need some more, but almost everyone hates me so there's no point" I replied before getting up and moving too look out of the window.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Damien questions, moving to my side and looking out of the window as well. I saw that the silver van was still there; as was the man inside but unlike my other ventures he was awake… and looking back at me. He only looked for a second before averting his gaze but he had indeed stared at me. ' _Why would he be watching me if Damien is already here… maybe Damien is indeed innocent._ '

"Wonderful view of the snow isn't it" Damien said sarcastically.

"You get used to it quickly." I replied quietly.

"Obviously, it's everywhere... Are you sure you are ok, you seem very tired, did you even sleep?"

' _Should I tell him about the man in the silver van… no, I don't want him to be sucked into this.'_

"No, I didn't, I really should have but my arm has really been hurting and it kept me up, although the pain has dampened a bit so I should be on the road to recovery." I lied, he seemed to believe that lie also, I wondered how many lies I would have to tell if this problem persisted.

"You should really get some more rest, anyway, I'm not going to tell you what to do…" he trailed off before continuing "ok, Phillip, ok, I was wondering…"

"Yes Damien"

"A few days ago I saw you staring up at me from my window… why were you?" he said, I saw that he was displaying an emotion I hadn't seen on him before, worry, Damien was worried about why I was looking at him through his window. The same Damien who had protected me from Craig was scared by something as mundane as that?

"I just saw there was a new person in town and was curious, why?"

Damien looked at me clean in the eyes for five seconds straight, the worry had disintegrated into a strong glare as he studied my eyes with a ferocious intent that I had never seen on a person before. he stood silent, just studying my eyes, it made me extremely nervous, a cold sweat trickled down my neck like rain water falling down a window. ' _What did he think I was doing?_ '

He then released a large sigh "ok, I believe you, although I guess now you want answers, right?"

"I-If you could"

"fine then, this is gonna take a while so I'd say we sit somewhere" I, somewhat reluctantly, moved back to the bed, I didn't want to move my eyes from the van but Damien was being incredibly serious and I was sure it was extremely important.

"Listen… I don't know why the hell I'm telling you this, I mean I've only known you for a few days, I guess I just need to tell someone."

"And what is it?"

"Well… back when my father and I moved to the east coast, Province, Rhode Island. It was nice, quiet, I didn't have many friends although the ones I did were loyal as hell. but… a group of psychotic religious nuts caught wind of dad's… and my... faith." he stopped for a second, he showed only complete abstract terror, he had gone from a lion who showed no fear to a scared hare surrounded by predators. "They, set fire to my house, me and dad got out but they had surrounded it, one of them even tried to shoot me in the head, 'this for god and mankind, you vile monster' he said. the cops got there just in time, managed to stop the bastard from killing me but… well, we moved to Chicago afterwards… a few of them must have followed us or something because I woke up with one of them in my room, fuck, just staring at me with a knife in his hand. I was only about thirteen at the time, I was so scared, he just looked at me, probably thinking I was asleep, with this mad grin. he stabbed me in my shoulder, I was nearly killed again, if it wasn't for me screaming and thrashing, dad would have been none the wiser, he managed to restrain the guy and get the cops again."

I could only listen in awe; I was shocked by his tale, but more shocked by the possible answers. Was it these fundamentalist psychopaths that were watching me?

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, I couldn't be too cautious, if it was indeed these fundamentalists watching me through the night, who still watched me as I had the conversation. I wanted to know if he was having similar experiences and if he was also being followed.

"They're the reason why we moved here… My father had reached the final straw when one was caught outside our house; he was hiding in a tree, staking it out. We had moved here almost instantly, we went through three separate delivery services to make sure that they couldn't follow us but… I don't know, it's been a week and I want to know if I'm actually safe, and if I'm not." he looked up to me, scared stiff and with tears of unparalleled fear brimming in the corners of his eyes "I couldn't stand it if I was the reason for your death Philip, I barely know you, and I was hoping to make a fresh start when I moved to this town, make some friends that weren't over the internet you know?"

He stopped, simply inhaling and exhaling, trying in vain to hold his emotions inside. Like an immense swarm of flies trapped in a tiny bottle, the pressure amounted to a massive scale before exploding in a flurry of chaos. He instantly broke down; gripping onto his hair and leaning onto the bed, supporting his weight with his elbows I saw tears fall from his eyes and onto the sheets below, looking as if it was raining on the snow.

I didn't know what to do, I just sat there awkwardly watching, hovering my still useful hand over his back in an obviously useless attempt at comfort. Gently I patted his back, I had absolutely no idea if it worked, although he noticed the pressure of my hand and forced him to calm down.

He looked back up to me, two small streams sliding down his cheeks.

"I-I think I saw them again last night, they- I think they were outside my house, Dad had gone out for the night, some meeting for a job I think. I didn't know what to do. my landline was dead and my phone was out of charge and I… I was worried about you, I-I didn't know if you were ok and, I just wanted to be sure that they hadn't turned on you, that you were safe." he stopped for a second, and stared straight up to the ceiling, rather ironically looking as if he was trying to find answers in the heavens. then he started laughing, no insane giggle of psychopathy but a laugh of frustration, completely forced and full of fear. "Fucking hell Phillip, I've only known you a few days and already I'm worried for your safety. In an hour I'm going to call my dad, tell him what's going on and go to the police, they should help." he said

I couldn't argue with him it was a good idea, I just hoped the police would actually help, they seemed to be particularly lacking in the areas of serving and/or protecting, optimistically they would take immediate action and actually help Damien. Realistically I presumed they would do none of that and nothing much would happen.

With a sigh I decided to tell him of the previous night.

"Damien, I think that whoever you're worried about… I-I think they're watching me as well."

"WHAT! OH...OH SHIT. GOD, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT...You're joking right…. right?"

"No, n-no Damien, I'm not, outside, a silver van with a driver who has dark blond hair and a green jacket."

Damien rushed to the window, took a second to look outside before going wide eyed.

"OH SHIT, I've seen that Guy." he said turning to me.

"Wh-what, really?"

"yeah, he came around the first day we arrived, to do some work with Dad… oh shit, is that group actually **in** this town, oh no, no, no. FUCK" he shouted before pacing up and down the edge of my bed, repeatedly mumbling a string of curses.

"DAMN IT ALL." he shouted, catching the attention of some curious passer bys. " was… was that why he had come to my house, to see if we were actually the family that they were after… oh shit I'm so, so sorry Phillip, god... damn it all" he rambled, on the verge of breaking down again.

I didn't really know what to do, I just continued to sit there, even as tears brimmed once again in his eyes and he gripped onto my shoulders as if Looking into my blue orbs would hold the answers. He was sort of pitiful but I had no place to actually call him so, no matter how I tried to stay calm I was as scared as he was.

"Can… can I ask you a favour?" Damien said.

"S-sure, what is it?"

"Would I be able to just… let it out on you?"

"Umm… uh, o-ok, yeah, whatever you want."

In response he sat on the bed, gripped onto me and buried his head into my shoulder and just cried in stress and anger.

"D-d-damn it… just f-fuck, why… why." He said, raising to look straight into my eyes again "For so… so long these bastards have been following me. And now… now. I just want this to be over."

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.

He recovered himself, wiping the last of his tears away "I don't know… but… I'm going to go to the police now… I'll come back when I'm done, ok, don't... just don't be dead." He got up and moved to the door, waiting as he began pushing it open "Could you… not, talk about that, by the way… that was sort of embarrassing." And then he left.

For the next hour a doctor came in and explained that the Orphanage would be covering my medical bills and that I could leave by the next day, I just had to be careful when walking and I had to be careful with my arm. I was relieved but the ever present; watching eyes of the man in the silver Ford was more overpowering.

As every second passed after the doctor left I kept a close eye on the door, waiting for Damien to pop in and say that he had solved the problem, that nothing was wrong, that the eyes on me was nothing but paranoia.

When he came back the earth's massive light had almost left, dusk was falling to sleep and Damien looked furious. he slammed open the door, his emotions not changing as he almost slammed himself onto the bedside chair.

"The bastards said they couldn't do jack, bullshit. It's… I'm… Fucking assholes." he angrily spat, glaring at the ground "Why? They've been told about what happens and… and." He sighed, slowly trying to compose himself; I just let him do as he wished. "I need to ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"I… This is really strange to ask but, I was wondering, could I stay around your place? I don't feel perfectly safe in my house and my dad's… well he just texted me a bit ago saying he'd be out for the night and, well, knowing him he won't be checking his phone anytime soon. I just… I think it'll be safer, you know?"

I don't think I could have refused.

"Yeah, I know what you mean, I um… you remember where my house is, right?"

"Yes."

"Ok, so, umm, this is going to be a bit complicated. Ok, at the front of my apartment is a potted plant next to the main door, look underneath it and there should be a box. Take it and go to my mail box at the entrance and inside there is a key stuck to the inside door. Use that to unlock the box and bingo! you've got the spare key to my house." I explained, rather sheepish at my convoluted back up.

"Why the hell is it so complicated?"

"I couldn't make it too easy to get in, could I?"

he gave a small smile before turning to leave "Listen, man… thank you." was what he said, before leaving me to my paranoid night of watching the window for any attempted murderers. I felt Damien would owe me one if I was actually a target.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11, Here it is. More terrible dialogue.**

 **I don't own this and blah, blah, blah.**

Chapter 11

The next day I left the hospital as early as I could; staggering my way towards the reception where I received my bag and the other belongings I had taken to school. I awkwardly dressed myself in the now cleaned cloths, filed out some paperwork to state that the orphanage was paying for all my expenses and swiftly made my escape from the building via the fire exit. I didn't care if CCTV caught wind of me as I had seen around two doctors and some large number of nurses used the same exit for smoking breaks. Rather ironic if you'd ask me.

It was still dark when I began moving around the buildings side, keeping behind the large row of trees that attempted to make the gloomy hospital look even somewhat attractive to anyone. The brighter browns and greens just clashed with the dull grey.

Walking was much easier than the previous day, it still stung and jabbed and my cast arm felt like it had been covered in bricks, but I could actually move at a reasonable pace, I just didn't want to be stuck in a chase any time soon.

I kept a close eye on the ford van, the inhabitant looked completely devoid of life, for at least two days he had been watching the same window, did he even know that I had left? Was it even the same van? Everything seemed so upside down that I resigned to just believing that the blond man was just bored and I hadn't gone crazy.

After half the parking lot was behind me the pathway turned into a small hill and van was out of sight, covered by crowding cars, flourishing pines and resting snow. I thanked the heavens that I had decided to wear a hoodie the day I was hospitalised, the town normally was cold but in the dark morning it was comparable to a freezing bath.

As I left the entrance to the hospital's car park I turned at a final glance and immediately dived behind the trees as the van had moved! Now it was patrolling around the car park. It rumbled like an angry lion, waiting for its' prey to show itself so it could pounce for the kill. It circled the park once; every now and then I saw the headlights shine next to me, blocked by the protective tree that I felt was as strong as papier-mâché.

I stayed as still as a corpse, three times it circled, six times the light fell onto the large pine tree and nearly exposed me. I felt as if he knew where I was, he was just toying with me, playing fun with my terror. But was that actually true? No, I refreshed my thoughts, he couldn't know that.

I heard the vans angry rumble move closer it got slower and closer before moving near me, as if it were sniffing me out like a bloodhound. My blood complained at not moving fast enough, like a typhoon in my veins, beating and beating.

Quickly the van roared in displeasure and squealed then drove away, leaving me alone.

I smiled widely, I was finally alone, at least I hoped I was. I kept in mind that there could be another person watching and that didn't help me with calming down.

As usual I stuck to the maze of alleyways, sticking to the shadows although my brighter clothes didn't help me with staying hidden. My flat was about a twenty minutes walk from the Hospital and for every second of those twenty minutes I had my eyes glancing behind me, just to **make sure** that the van wasn't going to park near the exit/entrance to the alleyways or for the blond haired man to come out from the shadows.

The dawn's chorus was still a good couple of hours from their first verse when I arrived at the square space that held my apartment complex.

I moved as fast as my wounded body would let me and entered the building and ascended up the empty stairs, keeping it in mind to avoid any windows in the miniscule chance that I had been followed.

I quickly stuffed the key into the lock of apartment 29, the first door to the left of the sixth flight, and entered to a dark flat. It was still quite early, around five O'clock so the building was mute, every footstep was silenced by the underneath carpet.

I closed the door, quickly locking it and moving to my front room window that overlooked the car park, nothing unusual at all, I could recognise virtually every car and there was no silver van.

I sighed in relief and closed the blinds, darkening the room but after already walking through the darkness it didn't take my eyes long to adjust and I moved to the bedroom. I wanted to see if Damien was safe… or there at least.

I just waited at the door for a second, my hand caressing an invisible spectre above the handle before I gained the courage to see if he was alright and creaked open the door.

A figure was lying on top of the covers of my bed, asleep, it was Damien and he was fine. I smiled and moved to his side, finding him still dressed in a black shirt and jeans, straight faced in a content slumber.

'Thank God' I thought as I closed the blinds next to the bed, keeping a watchful eye on the urban labyrinth below to find no one.

"Hey… are you ok" I heard Damien say behind me. I turned and found him sitting straight on the bed, watching me with dropped, sleep filled eyes. "What time is it, do you ever sleep?"

"About five, and… well not really." I replied "And now I think I'll be doing less of that."

"Don't accidentally kill yourself, could you?"

"I don't think so. But I'll try to keep myself rested, ok?"

"Yeah, that's only the best right now." He covered his face with his hands and fell backwards onto the bed "God damn it all… Fuck, just… Fuck it all, ya know?"

"Not really." I replied sheepishly.

He looked back with a small smile. "I can't believe how damn calm you seem, I'm having an internal thunderstorm over here, just… let's just hope my dad can sort this out."

"Do you think he can?"  
"When I actually get ahold of him later and tell him about this thing, I can tell he's going to march straight to the police and either their going to stop this as swiftly as they can, or he's going to make them the most hated thing on the planet… and then they'll help us. Or this will all go to shit, but I'm just going to hope he can help."

I felt like I had to as well, no matter how much Lucas freaked me out, he seemed reliable, just far too happy for normal. I couldn't blame him for his eccentricities though, that would only be hypocritical of me.

"Damn, I need something to take my mind off of all this bullshit." He said quietly as he pushed himself to lean against the headboard.

I sat further down on the bed, next to his feet and rested my arm on my cast.

"Umm… what is it you're interested in?"

He stayed silent for a second and looked at me almost agape "Wow, I've just realised that you trust me enough to let me sleep in your house alone and we actually know nothing about each other's likes and dislikes."

"I guess that's true but this is a weird situation, is it not."

"I guess so."

"What do you like then? You want something to take your mind of things... so maybe this will help?"

"Ok, cool… What do I like? I guess I enjoy playing the guitar... movies, I guess. I don't really know much else to say. You?"

"Oh..." I paused, not expecting the return question "Reading, I guess."

"Awesome, what types?"

"Oh… Any book really, I wouldn't say I'm picky really."

"Fair enough… do you like music?"

"Yes, I'd… I'd say I do, yes."

"What genre?"

"Oh… Uh" I nervously coughed"I guess… Metal… I guess."

"Really? Awesome." He said, perking up slightly "I never would have guessed."

"No one does, it's always a surprise to people." I paused, thinking. "You know what, bugger it, I've got a stereo in my front room, do you want to just put something on and… um, relax."

"God, that sounds fantastic."

We swiftly made our escape from the bedroom, traversing some three steps in the hall and arrived at the front room. I decided to not turn on the lights as the sudden light would not do us any good except making them sting like wasps angry jabs in our irises. Instead I expertly manoeuvred around the furniture and to the cabinet at the far end of the room that held the tv above and some shelves below. I opened both glass doorways and allowed them to swing open as if to dramatically reveal the contents, although those were only the stereo, more of my books, around ten CDs from varying artists and some candles.

"Uh, Damien… You have matches don't you?" I said, remembering his ethanol pyrotechnics from before.

"Yeah, they're in my pockets."

"Could you get them out?" I said, showing him the candles.

"Oh, yeah… Give me a sec." He flipped the packet open in one movement, took a single stick and swished it against the packet, igniting the red tip and illuminating his face in a calmly pulsating sphere of glowing orange. He lit the tip's of them and within the next five minutes the room looked as if we were prepared to enact a sacrifice although, the slowly speeding up electric guitar and drums of an _iron maiden_ album broke the ambiance like a sledgehammer to a man's legs.

"Ya know?" Damien said as the music lowed and the song became sombre and mellow "I haven't really paid you back for basically looking after me, have I?"

"You… You don't have to, you're basically my only friend, and you don't need to pay me back."

"I'm really your only friend? I was just joking! What about that Kenny guy, he doesn't seem like that much of an asshole."

"He's not. It's just that… I'm not good with people."

"Neither am I, be it for different reasons but still. Ya know? Your problem is that you let things happen, which is strange, I've never met anyone who just lets things happen. No matter how awkward you are your…Laid blackness, I guess, is completely against all the shit you've had to deal with, if I had the shit kicked out of me as much as you do, and I've seen it happen twice in the, what, four days I've been here, I'd probably be hypersensitive to every damned word a person says."

"Well… If you just let things happen they will be over sooner, if you resist… then it will just keep going on, eventually if you are so aloof to it, it should all just eventually leave you alone."

"Maybe, but that seems like a bad way to live your life. Take that from someone who's also spent most of their life in small groups, it doesn't help to always let things happen. Try and stop something sometimes and it can be the best thing that happens to you, ok?"

I went over his words for a few seconds before nodding once with a small smile "Sure, maybe I'll try… Just… Just don't count on it, ok?"

The music's tempo began speeding up as the track changed "Sure, it's only the best you can do."

We moved back to a mutual silence, just enjoying the presence of another person and the music. It was nice, quaint and rather de-stressing; the paranoia of a watching force was sucked away like a sponge in a bowl of water.

Before long I noticed the sun's rays filtering through the edges of the blinds, darkened from the inside of the flat and seeming like an eclipse in the almost mesmerising way the light tried to creep through the edges of the blockade to replace the remaining darkness.

I checked my phone, 6:29 was what the digital clock said, we still had a lot of time, at least half an hour until I would think of leaving.

"Would you be ok with walking?" I asked, deciding to try it once again and hoping that Trent would think that I would use the bus, or was still in the hospital.

"I do that anyway, so yeah, I'd be fine"

"Oh, thanks."

He gave a small smile "No problem, anyway, wouldn't it be better to stick together in a scenario like this?"

"I guess so."

"Well I'd say you guessed right." He declared. "Should we be getting ready?"

"Not yet, give it five minutes." I said, waiting for the last track to finish its' sombre lyrics to the quick tempted finale.

I changed into my more formal attire, awkwardly into one of my generic long sleeved shirts and black trousers. I found that only being able to use one hand when buttoning up a shirt was a trial indeed.

"Why do you dress like you're going to go to a business meeting?" Damien asked as I walked back into the front room.

"Oh… It's just gentlemanly… sort of."

"Whatever, I guess it suits you."

"Um, thanks?"

"Sure. You know, I'm not looking forward to having another talk with that fat bastard."

"No one does."

"Why hasn't anyone dealt with him if he is really that much of an asshole?"

"Because anyone who can either doesn't care or is scared of the consequences. Usually both."

"I know you said he was smart but is he really that dangerous, get rid of his friends and he'll back himself into a corner for you. I've seen his type before, in Chicago, in province, even when I went to England with my dad for an extended vacation. That type of asshole is everywhere; you just **think** that they're some kind of mad genius, actually there scared and alone. Not like us Phillip, even just the two of us, we have more things to be scared of, more things to force us to loneliness but us? We stay upright, straight back and look forward, be it with apathy like you or whatever it is with me and we can make it through eventually, they're the peasants and we're the knights and the kings of this world, we're smart and they're stupid, we're strong and they are weak. Don't you see Phillip? You and I have lived this far, we can live forever, we will live forever and they will be forgot. What I'm trying to say is… don't worry about that Eric bastard or that Tweek guy's friend, because they are weak and us, the kings of this world, are strong."

I didn't believe him but the words were comforting and his look of utter confidence was so unique, so true that I just nodded, a true smile on my face once again.


	12. Chapter 12

**And Chapter 12, a bit longer than my regular ones. Also, if anyone actually has any criticism on this I'd happily take it :).**

 **Again, I am not the copyright holder of anything mentioned in this story.**

Chapter 12

The day was slow, I was uninterested in lessons and I found myself watching the window as if it were some grand puzzle to spot any possible pursuers. No one came and all I achieved was seeing every shadow as being a massive, seven foot figure ready to jump me, only to find it was a nearby tree or locker casting light onto a neighbouring wall. The overcast sky didn't help matters, the looming black clouds made the dim light ominous and the creeping shadows plenty.

Having to write with a broken arm was also a pain, I never had flawless handwriting in the first place, the arm only added to that.

Eric approached Damien once more, only to be glared at by the crimson eyed teen and surprisingly Eric left it at that, he didn't strike out or even spit angry words. That left a worrying feeling, he wasn't angry, instead he just gave a smug smile.

"Fine."

"Fine?" Replied Damien, casting a glance in my direction, only to be rewarded with shrugged shoulders.

"Yes, fine. You don't want to be associates, I see, you want to side with French. I see." His smug smile grew wider "Be seeing you." Was all he said before he turned and left, his two friends (who Eric had introduced to Damien as Jack and Ryan, he didn't say who was who though.)

"What was that?" Damien asked.

"No idea."

He smiled slightly, a bright glint in his eyes "See, I'm sure he's secretly scared, remember, we're the kings!" He said as he patted me on the shoulder "I don't know why but I think this will be good."

"I don't know."

"When can you? I only guess."

"How often are you right?"

"I've never been around long enough to find out."

"Well, doesn't that just bode good feelings?"

He slipped to his more common sombre tone "I guess you're right, let's just hope I am."

I was on edge, more paranoid than before with the fear of Eric lashing out around; it was hard to predict Eric.

Nothing much else happened though, at least from Eric, at math I found myself awkwardly silent as Kenneth glanced towards me every now and then, a question on his tongue.

For the entire hour we both held our words to ourselves as the teacher, who had next to no self awareness, talked on and on, boring the class from the start to the end. No one had high hopes on succeeding in math.

When the lesson ended Kenneth stood outside of the hoard of leaving students, beckoning me to follow him to the class's side.

"Did you find anything about that Damien guy?" He whispered as we tailed the thinning group. Damien was out of sight.

"Um… Well, I'm sure that he's not… um… against us."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's uh, had to deal with this for a while."

"What, psychopaths following him, really?" he said, his disbelief as thick as oil.

"Apparently, and I uh, don't want to upset you but I don't think he's with them. I mean… What do you think?"

"I think I need to have a sit down at the back of the school, care to join?" He said. Even I knew that he meant he was going for a smoke.

"I um, I won't be having any."

"I didn't expect you to."

"Oh, Uhh ok, fine by me then."

The feeling returned when we walked, single file through the corridors, the feeling of watching, spying, and invisible eyes.

It wasn't possible for them to be **in** the school though, there wasn't security because the teachers would have seen someone unusual in the school and sent them away.

' _Is it actually the teachers, is it everyone who's following me… watching me.'_

"Kenneth, o'l chap" I whispered. "Do you feel as… as if someone's watching us?"

He retorted with a raised eyebrow. "No, don't worry, if someone is, they won't get anything from it." he smirked and sarcastically continued "Oh no, they know where me and the emos that carry knives around hang out… by god."

"I guess you're right."

"Yeah, don't worry, although if it is true, you're probably the only guy to get a fan club this fast. Congrats to that; it's only sad that your fanclub is a bunch of stalkers."

For the duration of the walk the ever present watchful orbs bore their burning gaze into my back. My hairs stood erect and gooseflesh riddled my arms. I felt as if it were not a man behind me, but some psionic creature that was attempting to break my mind and my will. That assumption was the maddest one yet.

We quickly reached the back of the school's main building, it was mostly a road for deliveries to be driven down to the Cafeteria but its infrequent use had made it a prime target for the social outcasts who hated both society, and themselves to wallow in self pity.

There were six people at the schools back, I had not the slightest inkling to their names but they all were dressed in 'edgy' black clothing that would make them a living sauna if a summer's day were to ever be warm. Their hair was either dyed a dark black that went unfitting to their artificially painted white skin or an equally unfitting variety of dark colours. Kenneth didn't say anything and they glared but after a minute or so they ignored us.

I found it funny that Damien's eyes invoked more occult terror than the Goths hours of vain preparation.

Me and Kenneth sat on the opposite side of the road, on the small amount of concrete that made an abandoned pathway. From his backpack he brought out a red and white packet that read 'Marlboro' on the front. It wasn't the cigarettes that surprised me (They were easier to find than blades of grass) it was that he brought out a golden flip lighter that shined against the sunlight. It looked authentic, not 24 carets but somewhere close. It seemed eons away from his or his family's price range.

For a second he let the lighter stay lit before he turned it off in conversation of the fuel.

"They weren't there yesterday."

"The… The Fanatics?"

"That's a good name for them."

"Why um… weren't they there?"

"Hell if I know, but I didn't see them, and trust me I looked." he smirked "Had my dad's gun with me as well, who would've guessed the day I was prepared was the day they decided to leave me alone."

"You're… Y-You're dad's gun?"

".45 automatic handgun, stupid prick doesn't know that the model of handgun you own should not be your two digit peice of shit lock."

"Oh, you… you weren't going to use that… right?"

"Right? Fuck that, if they got a step towards me or Karen they'd be missing a fucking lung!" He exclaimed, taking a drag of his smoke and glaring at the ground For a second or two, as if it were the face of one of The Fanatics. He turned back to me and continued "So Damien's cool?"

"Yeah, he's uh… yeah, cool, he's good."

"I'm taking you on that." He took a glance at his phone, a model that would be considered archaic to some. "Also… I guess I'll be seeing you on Thursday by the way."

"Thursday?"

"Remember, tutoring on math?" He said with a wide smile that was entirely genuine and happy. I didn't enjoy the remainder of my lie though. "And it's the only day I'm not occupied" He continued, knowing his reputation I presumed it was mostly of a sexual nature.

"Oh right, that, I almost forgot."

I felt the eyes again and whipped my head around to see the goths glaring at me.

Kenneth placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry about them Pip, this has got you really fucking jumpy hasn't it? They'll fuck of eventually; you're just a new conformist… I still have no fucking idea to what that means."

"Right o." I replied only to be answered with a snicker.

"You're never going to stop those aren't you?" Said Kenneth.

"Oh, I… I can stop!"

"Don't! Please don't. it's, damn it's fucking cute."

"Pardon!?"

"I said it's fucking cute, livens up the fucking depressing atmosphere, it's like Kyle going on and on about random bullshit." He laughed, the goth's glare hardened, they were probably just unhappy that Kenneth was finding something funny. "Speaking of Kyle, I've got to catch up with him, wanna join; maybe we'll find Damien on the way."

"S-sure."

He raised and dropped the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it to extinguish the last of the red embers.

"Thank fuck for natural charisma."

"Natural charisma?" I asked.

"If it were anyone else you probably would have declined, but thanks to my good old natural charisma you agreed."

"Oh, right." I still didn't think he was… entirely sane, but who was?

"How else do you think I get in bed with so many people, it isn't only good looks, you've gotta have something else otherwise you're never getting any." He said. I'd have been embarrassed thoroughly if I'd said that but from him it sounded like he was joking.

"I… I guess that makes sense… Um, may I ask but, where actually are we going to go?"

"Yes you may ask." He said with a smirk "We're heading to Mr Hedgesons room; he lets us hang there without interruption. Mostly for Kyle to study though."

"Oh… I never knew that."

"Hardly anyone does, it's why Kyle's so good at not getting pissed at the fat-ass."

"Oh, well thank you for taking me-" I said but stopped as I felt the eyes once again. The third time in break alone. Although my pursuer was seen as I turned sharply to find Damien walking towards me from the other end of the hall.

"Told you we'd run into him."

We met up with him halfway across the hall, having to keep to the side to allow other students to pass.

"You're Kenneth, right?" asked Damien.

"It's Kenny, Pip over here can say it but two people's a bit too much."

"Right, Kenny." He turned to me "Where are you going anyway, I didn't see you out of math."

"Yeah, we were just organising the tutoring thing." Kenny explained, a calm and inviting smile on his lips. "Sorry for pulling him away from you. We're heading to the room that me and my friends hang in, wanna join?"

"Got nothing better to do, Phillip's pretty much my only friend here, although we only have like, five minutes."

"It'll be good to know where it is." Kenneth said.

"Makes sense." Damien Replied.

' _He does have that natural charisma. Or he's just a really good liar._ '

"It's… uh, Mr Hedgesons room… The man we have for English."

"ah, cool, what do we have next?"

"English." Kenneth replied comically.

As we walked Damien dragged me a few steps behind Kenneth.

"I see you've got a new friend. Maybe I'm right, maybe things are getting better?"

"Uh, it's, uh, pretty much thanks to you." It was, if he hadn't brought The Fanatics with him, Kenneth wouldn't have talked with me.

"Do you think it's… safe though, with… Ya know, them?" He said, spitting the final word like a disgusting food.

"Yeah, I know he… he can look after himself well, he uh… didn't grow up in the nicest part of town."

A flash of recognition beaming in Damien's eyes.

"Ah, good."

Not much happened for the next two lessons, in English me and Damien shared whispered conversations and in Spanish I found myself silent and Ignored.

At lunch I made my way to the room, and realised that even when walking with a limp and a broken arm, the need to mock still fuelled some. I counted three whacks to the back of the head, two trips and a glare and a few threats from Trent, who still felt the need to intimidate me further.

When I got to the room It was lit up but only one person was in there: Kyle Brofloski, sitting in the same spot he did for English, right in the center of the room. He was reading a large textbook that I couldn't define from so far away.

I knocked on the door a few times and he was quickly brought out of his concentration. When he caught my look he motioned me to come inside.

It was strange to see the room so desolate; I was used to seeing it with people in. So when there was only two people it seemed like an empty church in comparison to its normal appearance.

"Kenny said you'd be here, come in and sit down. It's good to get someone different. Is your arm ok?"

"Yeah, it's fine." I said as I placed myself in my seat and Kyle got back to his book. Much like everyone else he retained the same look of his childhood, same green ushanka and coat, the only real difference was a shorter hair cut and some thin spectacles that rested down the bridge of his nose that he kept pushing up with his middle finger.

"So where's my other favourite homosexual." Kenny declared, quickly pushing open the door and catching me by surprise. He had his arms spread like he was ready to hug the air and the same wide smile. Damien was behind him, looking curiously over to me.

"Fuck off." Kyle instantly retorted as if this was a daily routine. It probably was. "Either getting food of pleading to Sprite." He continued "I'm never going to know why he took Geography."

"Isn't it her time of the month?" Kenneth asked, sitting next to Kyle as Damien did the same with me.

"Probably, wouldn't surprise me." Kyle said.

"Who?" questioned Damien.

"Miss Sprite, the Geography teacher, massive bitch." Kenneth answered.

"Oh, I've got Miss Sheffield."

"Lucky bastard." Said Kenneth.

"I guess she's ok."

"At least you've got the hot one."

"And I quote 'I'd plow that any day'" Kyle said, rising from his book to look flatly at Kenny.

"That was before we realised she was a massive bitch." Kenneth answer only to be met with rolled eyes. "Anyway, you're free to hang here any time, be it you don't interrupt the two homosexuals make out session-"

"Fuck. Off. He's lying about that by the way." Kyle interrupted.

"Got it." Damien said.

"Whatever, interrupt them if you want to, they'll be the ones complaining."

"There will be no reason for people to complain, and, Pip, I hear you're giving Kenny tutoring. Thank you, he might actually learn something."

"Hey, I can learn things."

"Sure." Kyle said with a smirk.

"Bastard."

Kyle gave a short, stifled laugh before moving from his book to me and Damien once more.

"Sorry if this is not as exciting as you may have thought but it sure beats the hell out of the cold."

"That's true." Damien smoothly replied' "Then again, pretty much anything does."

"Very true, just wait till Stan's here."

"Because we all know he's just the **life** of the party." Kenneth replied sarcastically.

"What? And I am."

"No, I am."

"Whatever." Kyle said, finishing the conversation to flip a page and move on to more revision.

Kenneth leaned back in the chair and turned to us "So how are you enjoying the fair school?".

"I'm not." Replied Damien.

"No surprise there, then again-" Kenneth was cut off by Stan who quickly entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

"What'd the bitch do?" Kenneth casually said.

"REDUCED THE TIME TO GIVE IN MY DAMN HOMEWORK."

"Well, that fucking sucks. Isn't that like… Illegal?"

"No. But a mean move." Added Kyle.

Stan's eyes fell on us two and he quickly sobered from his anger like he'd been shot.

"Oh, hey, how are you doing?"

"Good." Damien said. "What homework was it you had to do?"

"I think it was on… landmarks or some really easy thing like that."

"Why the hell didn't you do it then!?" Said Kyle.

"Because… Because I lost the sheet." Said Stan, rather embarrassed as Damien began rifling through his bag and Kenneth began laughing a long and resonating laugh.

"When have you got to have it in by?" Asked Damien.

"Next lesson." Stan replied and Kenneth laughed harder.

"Here, I think Miss Sheffield gave us the same task. I'll get another sheet when I see her next."

"Jesus, thanks man." Said Stan as he gladly took the sheet of paper. "When have you got to hand it in?"

"Next week, but like you said, it's easy, so it's fine."

"Seriously, thanks man, I owe you one."

"Not a problem. Really."

Stan smiled, wide and toothy. "Seriously, you have no idea how much she'd bitch next lesson if I didn't have this."

"Again, it's no problem, it's not like it's a loss to me."

The rest of lunch was rather uneventful, even though we were in the same room me and Damien were mostly by ourselves and Stan and Kyle conversed with themselves while Kenneth seemingly split to either conversation whenever it suited him. It was calm though and was much better than hiding in the shadows from Trent or Eric.

When the day ended me and Damien left the school together to head to Damien's house and await Lucas's arrival.

When we entered his house it was to a rather well

furnished living room, with two red sofas facing a large flat screen TV, a stairway upstairs to the far right with a door to the basement underneath and at the far end of the room was a door to what I could guess was the kitchen. The cabinet that held all sorts of electronic devices, I could only recognise the cd player and dvd player. I think there was also a VHS player behind some of the piled electronic boxes.

"Not what you'd expect is it?" Damien said as he began walking up the stairs. "Everyone expects inverted crosses and goat's heads. But dad keeps all that stuff to himself. Thank god is what I say."

"Why?"

We had moved up to the second floor which was in the shape of an inverted L with three doors to the long end and one to the short. Damien led me to the last on the left.

His room was rather barren, painted a pale blue with a red carpet, there was a simple wardrobe, a bed in the room's center with draws and a TV to the bed's right. There was a game console hooked up to the TV that held a thin layer of dust. To the opposite side was a desk and computer. On his bed was a laptop left on the green sheets.

"How long do you think until your dad will get here?"

"Two hours or so."

"Will we be ok until then?"

"Probably, the most dangerous of them have been in jail for a long time."

"How… I'm sorry but how dangerous have they been?"

"It's no problem. You know this?" He said, moving his neck to the side so that the 666 marking on his neck could be seen.

"Yes. Yes I do."

"It's not a tattoo; The Psychos burnt it on me. It never got fully looked at so it's stuck looking black for some years."

"They burnt it on you! Jesus!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, wasn't fun, this was back when it all first began. Happened just before they dragged me out of our burning house. to tell if I was holy or not, apparently… It hurt. Really hurt."

"Oh… I'm sorry."

He looked down at the ground "It's fine, don't worry, it happened." he sighed "things happen."

"I'm still sorry that it had to happen."

"There's no need and anyways, it turned out good for you… at least in some ways."

"What do you mean?"

"Well if it hadn't happened then you wouldn't have met me and… well I don't know what that would be like. I've found myself quite liking you."

"Oh… well certainly you had better friends. Didn't you say that the ones you used to have were loyal?"

"Yeah, but who knows what they're like now, at least I know you're not a complete prick."

"Wouldn't it be better if they didn't come after you though?"

"Well yeah but who knows, maybe it brought the best thing in my life?"

"It brought you to this town; it definitely didn't do the best thing in your life."

"You've stopped me there."

"I'm sorry."

"It's no problem."

We were quite for a long while after that, an awkward quiet that made me wish for the feeling of watching eyes to reapear just so I'd have a conversation topic.

Then I remembered.

' _Bugger, what about Kenneth!_ '

"Hey, Damien?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think the police are going to do about this?"  
"Probably station a car around the house to make sure no one tries to kill either me or you."

"Oh… um… cool."

"Why?"

' _I can trust him._ '

"Kenneth came to me a few days ago…" I whispered lowly.

"You're not telling me that?-"

"He said he was being watched.-"

"FUCK!" Damien quickly shouted at the top of his lungs, falling backwards onto his bed and gripping onto his hair. "You're not shitting me are you? No. No you're not. Fucking Hell."

"Damien?"

"Do you know how to get a hold of him?"

"I know where he lives."

"That's good enough."

"Pardon?"

"We've still got two hours." He gave a small, fake smile "How many people am I going to accidentally drag into this shit. We're going to have to get him." He said before we left the house.


	13. Chapter 13

**And here is chapter 13, more dialogue and more story. How shocking.**

 **Once again, I hold no copyright to the characters and such.**

Chapter 13

The difference between the 'higher class' area of the town and the poorer area where Kenneth lived was as striking as a sudden cleaver to the neck. As if we had crossed an invisible barrier we found ourselves off of cracked pavement and onto dirt path that still had a thin layer of snow on it. The buildings had gone from mundane and dull to resembling the set of a post apocalyptic movie. The people from mostly muscled and well kept to slightly underfed and with a small layer of grime.

Neither of us made any comment but the fact that we stuck out like a rabbit in a herd of lion didn't do well for either of our moods. I didn't want to judge, but we looked like we had money in a sea of the desperate.

I sympathised with Kenneth, he must have been a much stronger person than me to be around Eric for years and have to deal with his living conditions.

Kenneth's house was something that was definitely against the law for him and his sister to live in. Painted a deep, vile green, bringing images of a swamp to mind, the door was covered in splinters and the same was for the half standing fence behind. The winding, leading pathway was littered with chunks of concrete and patches of snow seeped onto it as if it were invading the cleared area. The single window next to the door had a pink curtain behind which was ripped as if someone had decided to go raging with a kitchen knife.

There was a garage next to the building but the roof had entirely caved in and the same was for the garage door.

Damien walked up and gave a quick knock on the door that almost bended inwards to his tiny force.

Suddenly, man's shout burst from inside, very loud and nearing obnoxious.

"KENNY YUH GET THAT."

For a second the sound of an argument echoed forward and backwards, Kenneth arguing against his father until Kenneth apparently lost and virtually ripped open the door.

When he saw Damien and me behind he fell out of his previous anger.

"Oh. I don't expect you to come to my place-"

"WHO THA FUCK IS IT?" Shouted Kenneth's father from a room or two in the house. His tone bringing thoughts of a furious Rottweiler or a Pitbull.

"SOME FRIENDS!"

"WELL LEAVE OR TELL THEM TO COME THA FUCK IN, WE CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE ANY MORE HEATING."

"Fucking prick." Kenneth muttered under his breath.

"Damn, how the hell do you deal with that?" Damien asked as Kenneth.

"Being a prick back, it's what he deserves. I'm gonna guess I know what you're here for, let's go somewhere more private."

He came out and led us to the caved in garage where he quickly moved to the back. Following, we found him leaning against a back door to the building.

"Give me a hand here."

"Couldn't we just use your room?"

"Karen… My sister's sleeping in there; I don't want to risk her getting into this."

"This **is** the same thing I'm thinking of right?"

"It is." I answered.

In one slow moment they pushed the door open slightly before whatever was behind it got stuck on the wall.

"Shit." Kenneth said. "Pip, could you slip in and push that bookshelf out of the way."

"Why the hell is there a bookshelf blocking the door?" Asked Damien.

"There's more than just privacy in there."

"I… what the hell do you mean?"

"We'll find out when Pip opens it." Kenneth said, glancing over to my direction, I got a good look at him; he had large bags under his eyes and looked generally exhausted. I hadn't really looked at his face when he was in school and I guessed he had been putting on a facade, or maybe he just felt safer in the depressing grey walls of school.

Obeying I slipped in, the gap was barely wide enough to fit my slim body and my cast, which I had to painfully lift over my head so I could fully push myself through.

The inside was virtually pitch black, only a few small beams of light from the sloped down roof and the door behind shed the slightest fingertips of creeping, explorative brightness. Blocking the door was a bookshelf that was down on its side in front of the door, the only surviving furniture was a chair and draws to the other end of the garage.

For a bookshelf it was very easy to move, it was made of flimsy plywood that was dampened to a point that it had nearly broken by Kenneth and Damien pushing it. The door itself seemed to be the reason for Kenneth having such a hard time enter, the hinges looked redder than the aftermath of a medieval battlefield.

It took one small push to move the flimsy blockade against the wall and give more space for Kenneth and Damien to try and open the resistant door.

Quickly they were in and the door was closed behind them, my vision was quickly plunged to near black but they adjusted fast. Only the small poles of light as an indicator that it hadn't suddenly became an overcast night.

I saw Kenneth's silhouette move along the darkness where he opened a drawer and withdrew a flashlight that, as if woken from an enjoyable sleep, angrily shot it's brightness across the room in a single cone of light that left a wall of looming darkness behind him. The shadows of the cracked and broken ceiling hung down like hanging bats above, blotching the white light with black spots.

"Well this is definitely more private." Remarked Damien.

"Be glad no one saw you or my parents would think I'm fucking both of you."

"What!" I exclaimed, very much red in the face, Damien didn't look as shocked.

"Well I have a place where no one except me goes, what else am I gonna use it for?"He said with a suggestive smile and wink. He was definitely not entirely sane, watched by fanatical madmen and he keeps cracking jokes, I hoped to god that this was just a way for him to cope.

"Makes sense." Damien replied.

"Well, that and to hide this." He said and then moved back to the door, swiftly changing the light from us to the draw. He pulled the bottom most draw out and the sound of clinking metal echoed for a second before he pulled out something, spun on the spot and got onto one knee, presenting a handgun as if it were an engagement ring.

"Jesus!" I got out in shock at both the quick movement of light and the extremely dangerous weapon now in front of me. I knew he had it, I just never expected to have it so close up.

"Why the hell do you have a gun?" Asked Damien, oddly relaxed and cool about the situation. I on the other hand had decided to move to the sidelines.

"Took it from my dad, he didn't know, still doesn't." He remarked the smile going from suggestive to as sly as a comical cat burglar. "A shit ton of ammo too, at least know what my sister's college fund went to." He (hopefully) joked.

"Can you use it?" Asked Damien.

"Of course. I wouldn't be part of a redneck family if I couldn't."

"Good, why are you showing us it?"

"Well, now we have a way of defending ourselves."

"Or, when my dad goes to the police, we can get a patrol around here." Damien flatly said.

"What? Do you actually think this town's police will actually do anything? They can't even get of their asses to get a cup of coffee! They're not going to help you."

"They will. Unless they want god knows how much information spread about them. My dad knows his shit, if you ignore the preaching." Damien said it with the confidence of a preacher himself.

"Let's fucking hope so… and preacher? We already have one here, I don't really give a fuck but what religion? You don't seem it."

Damien pulled out the neck of his jumper and pulled up the pendant (of which he had been hiding for the past couple of days.) It's expensive silver circle shining its demonic pseudo-power against the light. It still brought queer images to mind that were the only things that could be associated with the artefact.

"Shit man! A bit of advice, don't show that fucking thing many places around here, shit you'll get fucking beheaded. This place turns back two hundred fucking years when religion gets involved."

"I will do, why do you think I've got a fanatical cult after me?"

"Fucking hell, what the hell do they want with me or Pip though?"

"Phillips my friend, that makes sense, you though? I have no idea… You're Christian and their Christian. It makes no sense."

"I know my parents went to some freaky cult shit a long while back, but that was just for free booze; I think that's why I'm immor-... I think that might be why I'm being watched."

"Maybe, anyway, we were coming here so my dad could get all of us some help from the police. If it wasn't for Philip then I wouldn't have known you were even a part of this."

"I'm not expect-…. Fuck it, why not, I can come with you, I ain't doing anything else."

"Well thank god you actually accepted. But… Put that gun away, dad can get a bit… unsettled by them."

"What? Uh, sure." He said, putting the weapon back in its oversized wooden holster. "Why?"

"I nearly got my brains blown out by one of those psychos; I think it affected him more than me."

"Right, makes sense, I'm glad they didn't, it would be a shame if someone like you died."

"...Are you hitting on me?" Damien asked, a red tint on his cheeks like rust on clean metal.

"Maybe. If you want me to?"

"I don't."

Kenneth smiled wide once more "Then I'm not."

"Kenneth." I quietly said, gaining both their attention "Is now really the time to be… to be saying that."

He smiled wide once more and slung his arms around my shoulders, hurting my arms slightly thanks to the added pressure but not enough to make me cry out - thankfully -.

"Pip… It is never really the time to be saying things like that in this fucked off town but, ya know, fuck it. You could have a shotgun my head and I'll probably joke to his face or ask for sex, ya never know, it might work."

"Yes, um, can-... could we leave now?" I mumbled.

He looked down at me seeming like a giant to a pebble.

"A better idea than being stabbed by Fanatics, Damien?"

"Yes?"

"Let us be off to stop these bastards, have the police save the day and spend the rest of our lives on coke and hookers!"

"It sounds better than what we have now." He remarked, still flat.

We left soon after, having Kenneth remarking on everything like a running commentary. Seemingly taking nothing seriously.

The streets were sparsely encumbered, no more than three people could be seen at once as everyone else had already gotten home and it looked like not many people had plans for the day.

It felt strange, like every window had eyes behind them, watching, waiting for us to pass them so the watcher could burst out and go for the kill. In one walk to Damien's house every corner became a non-existent death-trap that I couldn't stop from pillaging my mind like a barbarian to pure, ripe land.

"Are you ok Philip?" Asked Damien as we crossed the road that I mentally marked as the halfway point from Kenneth's to Damien's. "I know this situation is bad but it'll be fine."

"I… Maybe."

"If I've gotten this far away from them, I'm sure we will be fine. I don't know why, but I think this is the last I will be seeing of them."

"And why would you think so optimistically?" Asked Kenneth.

"I don't know, it's just a feeling."

"Well, if your feelings are that good, my friend we're robbing a bank next."

"W-why?" I asked.

"Why not?"


	14. Chapter 14

**The next chapter, I find myself rather enjoying making this. I'm even considering heavily editing it when I finish it and maybe trying to get it published. (the chances of that are very low though.) Also, reviews, I've got to say that I'm quite chuffed that people are enjoying this but if anyone does have any criticism, I would gladly take it.**

 **Once more, I hold no copyright.**

Chapter 14

Once more I found myself inside Damien's house, this time waiting in his living room. Damien had ran off to the kitchen to grab food and such. I was by the window watching the street for any sight of the Ford van or the dark blond man. Kenneth was behind, just sitting on the sofa.

"Do you think they'll actually try to spy on you when you're at the window? That seems a bit retarded."

I stared outside for a second before I complied and resentfully abandoned my watching. "Y-yeah, I guess you're right."

"Pip, I know when something seems retarded, and those Fanatics would have to be really fucking retarded to think we definitely wouldn't spot them if they started camping out the house with you at the window. You're not supposed to be stuck in a hospital bed anymore."

"I-I was at the window for a-ages at the hospital and they still didn't act… S-sorry." I said, embarrassed for correcteing him.

"What are you trying to apologise about? And, hey, even the retarded can learn from their mistakes... maybe, right?" He asked, looking at me confused.

"I-I don't know. Sorry again."

"No problem, it was hardly a serious question- Jesus Christ!" Kenneth looked at the doorway to the kitchen, bug eyed.

Following his gaze revealed Damien in the doorway, holding a large tray in both of his hands; on top were three plates with sandwiches, crisps and other foodstuffs.

"What the hell got into you?" Said Damien as he moved over to the center of the living room and placed down the tray. "Pick any, they're all the same."

"Jesus, thanks man."

"What the hell are you so surprised about, it's lunch."

Kenneth quickly snatched one of the plates. "Listen man, I normally don't accept shit from my friends. Charity, even from them, I don't really like it. I thought you were getting some hot pockets or shit. The sort of stuff we eat at home, but instead you get this. Man, I'm beginning to like you!"

"If you don't like charity then why are you gorging yourself now?" Replied Damien.

"Sorry, but fuck man, sometimes I need some shit to eat, this is one of those times." He said, although everyone knew that literally anytime was when he would need to eat.

"It's not roast chicken or anything! And also, Why the hell are you so calm? You haven't even seemed worried, at all this entire time." Asked Damien sharply, perplexed by Kenneth's eccentric behaviour.

"Oh, I'm fucking terrified." Kenneth said, catching my attention. "Real, real fucking terrified, but I can't show fear, you show fear and you're an easy target. I can't do it or I become a target. You see."

"I think this is a really reasonable thing to-... sure, whatever." Damien said "Dad should be home soon, and the police will deal with this and in such a small town they'll be caught in no time."

"And if they aren't?"

"Well… to say it in words my father wouldn't allow here, we would be fucked." Kenneth's infectious calmness had seemed to claim him, I seemed immune. Instead I sat to the sidelines, next to the window, slowly chewing on a biscuit and quickly glancing to the road, every five seconds for a minute then I changed to every three, as if the van and driver could just appear at a quick glance.

' _There's no one there, like Kenneth said, it would be stupid for them to try and stake out now, when it's pretty obvious that they know that at least one of_ _ **us**_ _knows that they're following us._ ' I thought. ' _But they burnt down Damien's old home, burnt that marking on his neck, who's to say they won't just do the same._ ' I argued, agitating myself with the thought of The Fanatics suddenly running and bursting into the house, or that they had already broken in before and set a trap to burn it and us to nothing but, cold, dead ash.

I found it plausible that at any second I would smell the thick, clotting scent of smoke and bright orange flames would erupt like a dragon's breath from the stairwell. Then, when we left, we would find them, all mad with bagged eyes and thinned figures, holding rifles and handguns. A second it would take to blow us away, we would not burn in ash, but die messes of lead and thick, red, fleshy meat.

A **_Clap_** suddenly sounded in front of me, like a firecracker being blown in front of my face. Startling me so much that I jumped backwards and knocked my head against the radiator that was under the window.

"Oh shit!" Kenneth exclaimed, chuckling slightly "You ok?" He was kneeling in front of me, scratching behind his head, somewhat guilty. "Sorry about that, you were out of it, you ok?" He repeated.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I replied cradling the area where I had hit my head.

"What the hell were you thinking about?" Asked Damien.

"Just… things." I replied.

"Who would have guessed that you were thinking of things? It's the story of the century!" Said Kenneth, who moved back onto the sofa.

"Yeah… Just things." I echoed myself.

"Listen." Damien said, looking straight at me, with an intensity that seemingly bore into my soul itself. "It's going to be fine, stop shaking like a leaf, ok? It's gonna be fine, remember that I had a good feeling about this. So far I haven't found good feeling to be bad. So stop worrying." He was as convincing as a trained conman was to stupid, rich women, although he was much more respectable and honest than any conman I could think of.

"Sure, yeah, i will, or, well, I'll try."

"That's the spirit Pip!" Exclaimed Kenneth. His happiness didn't break and shatter the hard stone that was my anxiety but his effort allowed a small, sad and undeniably scared smile that wavered back to neutrality fast.

For the remainder of the time Damien and Kenneth conversed some, keeping the topics as far away from The Fanatics and religion in general. In an hour it had gone from Kenneth mocking Damien's music taste - and, him being mildly shocked by mine - to, somehow, Kenneth questioning Damien on his possible girlfriends.

"Anyone hot?" He had asked "Have you been with anyone hot."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Have you banged, or, at the very least, been with anyone hot?"

"What? Why?" Damien spluttered.

"I'm curious, what type of catches are there over in Chicago and Provence? Anything to distract from the bullshit smog and complete boredom?"

"Uh… Uh… I guess. Maybe, there were attractive people yes, but…. yeah, yeah I guess there were." He fumbled. The air between them was still amazingly laid back, I even thought, for a millisecond, that maybe the whole Fanatic thing had been some elaborate scheme to make me friends with Kenneth and, somehow, the same with Damien. My tapping right foot, impulsive fiddling fingers and quick glances out of the window evaporated that thought like water over lava.

"By what you said, I'll just guess that it's the same as everywhere else. You poor, poor, inexperienced guy." He said, sounding like a disappointed mother. "You're obviously too meek to just say such things."

Damien quickly recovered "What do you mean, there were attractive people, yes, I just… never dated any of them." He quickly said, in some attempt to regain the pride that Kenneth had tried to swipe away." I glanced once more at the window. At least one person had to worry for them. ' _Where is Lucas? for once I'd be happy to see his damn smile._ '

"Ah." Kenneth replied, as if he had just solved the world's most puzzling question "I get it now. They were all cunts, I see. A guy with your looks and bearableness could get any chick he want's. But who wants to be with a cunt?"

"Sure, yeah, right."

"Yes, yes I am right.-" Kenneth got out.

"H-hey Damien. uh, where's your dad? How long have we been waiting?" I asked, eyeing the driveway once more.

"He should be maybe… ten minutes or so. Listen, if it makes things easier, the back yard has extremely small fences, you could step over them, we have a way out if they strike today. They won't though, I'm still going to go on this feeling, I think I'd end up like I was a couple days ago if I didn't."

I looked once more, tightened my fists in my laps and stared outside. The winds were strong, swaying the trees so that the leaves would point to the left, as if nature itself was informing me to look.

I turned to stare down the street and saw a car driving down; the sunlight gleamed of the window and shrouded the driver's face. It slowed down as it approached the house, and parked half on the street, just a little ways from the house.

My breath hitched, my blood turned to icy water and my entire body felt clammy and stiff.


	15. Chapter 15

**It appears that I have bugger all to do this weekend and my actual book is on hold until I can edit it. I guess I'll be making progress with this. I echo what I said last chapter.**

 **I hold no copyright.**

Chapter 15

The car's door opened and it sounded as if I were not behind a wall, that the car was only inches away, that I was staring death in the face, and death had the face of an everyday man.

I could almost hear the man's footsteps as he cracked and crunched snow beneath his boot as he moved closer with every footstep.

It wasn't until the platinum haired Lucas moved around the fenced corner to the house that I realised how on edge I was.

" _Thank god!_ "

"Hey, your dad's here!" I exclaimed.

Damien quickly bolted upright

"Thank God!" he said as he got to the front door and quickly pulled it open to an unsuspecting Lucas.

"Damien!" He exclaimed in shock, for once his smile faltered. "What on earth's gotten so… Oh. Hello Phillip and… Kenneth? What's gotten you so spooked?" He asked me.

"I can explain." Said Damien, "It's… It's." He faltered from the energy that he had before, looking solemn. "It's… Them, the… The Fanatics."

"The Who? Wait, you mean them!" He suddenly shouted in surprise, he recoiled slightly, watching Damien in horror. His smile had fallen, for once it had, and that scared me.

"Yes." Damien near whispered.

"Oh… Oh, no. And, they've gone after your friends?" He said, he didn't seem as scared as I thought he would be, I expected him to jump in surprise and be in utter disbelief. "This is very serious, but what of the police, why didn't you go to them."

"I did dad… they didn't believe me."

"PARDON! I… I" He quieted down, "… I will personally torture those bastards in the pits of hell." He spoke, in a lowly tone that was laced with venom more potent than a black widow's".

"Bring your friends; we will talk in the car." He said, still as furious as before. He then briskly turned and stomped towards the car, like a demon ravaging the white land below.

"Well, I guess we should follow him!" Burst Kenneth, as he swiftly manoeuvred around Damien, with the elegance of a decapitated deer.

I was shocked still by Lucas's tone; it was filled with the hatred of the outcast to the popular, with the anger of a betrayed friend and the vile intentions of the devil himself. I would have believed that his eyes flared to a bloody crimson and shone with the evil of a merciless predator, but that did not happen.

Instead, Damien approached me and placed a comforting arm on my shoulder and smiled down, not with Lucas's hellish fire but the warmth of a hearth, slowly burning an age old oak, a comforting warmth.

"It's gonna be fine now, come on, we made it this far and, as Kenny said, those Fanatics are stupid, overconfident, we're gonna be fine, if anything happens, we're in the daylight and in a place with a lot of people, we'll be fine." He assured and I complied, getting up and slowly following him.

It was not long until we were in the car, a well maintained Citroen Saxo that reflected Lucas's fashion sense in a bright red.

Although undeniably furious, Lucas drove with the care of a hunter stalking towards their prey, slow and thoughtful with every turn of the steering wheel and change of the gears.

"Explain what's happened?" He had said to Damien as he got into the front seat, and as they drove Damien did just that. He rambled on about the events that had transpired, the blond man from outside my hospital window, of Kenneth's claims that confused Lucas as to The Fanatics' motive. He explained of how he had seen them outside their house.

Lucas looked at him still furious but somewhat confused.

"I believe you but… Jack? I… I." he muttered.

"Jack?" Asked Damien.

"The man who was apparently watching Phillip." His eyes darted to the rear view mirror and he looked at me for a brief second. "He's the one who helped me get set up with our place!"

"M-maybe it wasn't him." I said.

"No." Lucas replied as we slowed at a stoplight, we were only a few minutes from the police station. "I knew he was a fishy guy from the moment I met him, too nice."

I decided to not comment any further.

Kenneth seemed unnervingly quiet; he was leaning against the window and just watched the world pass by.

The police department was near empty of people other than officers at the reception desk. For a small mountain town, where near to no crime was the norm, aside from drunken brawls, the lack of officers in the police station was a common sight.

Cars drove across the road from behind but none, aside Lucas's, drove into the police station's parking lot. Someone could be mugged there and the only thing that would happen was that it would be reported faster than if it occurred anywhere else.

For a man who could smile so, Lucas was comparable to a building on fire when it came to fury.

"You fuckers!" He exploded when the officers had explained that they had blown off Damien's claims. "You know that's against the law! You're fucking police officers you bastards! If you don't know, I'm Lucas Thorne, an investigative reporter! A well. Known. Investigative Reporter! So unless you want "South Park Police Officers don't follows Their Own Laws!" Printed on every fucking headline from here to fucking Los Angeles, I'd suggest you help us!" he screamed, his anger turned to that of an exploding volcano, swarming molten lava and a deadly cloud of incinerating pyroclastic flow.

"Ok! Ok! Jeez, I'll have a chat with higher ups," the Officer, a young freckled ginger man who was rather red in the face, said. "It ain't me who did that, Jesus" he muttered.

"You'd better, bastard. I'll be laughing at you when you fucking burn! you hear! I'll be giggling with fucking delight!" He roared, the volcano had gone through its damaging, maddening eruption and was on the slow process of dying down to become dormant once more, but I feared that it would not become extinct for some time, or at all. Lucas's fury shocked me still, as if I had stared into medusa's eyes.

Lucas stormed over to one of the many empty chairs that littered the sides of the room and sat down, his head resting on his clenched arm and I thought of an all powerful king, instructed his subordinates to act on his own feudal purposes.

"Damn, well at least we definitely have one thing in common." Kennet whispered to Damien, nearly out of earshot as we followed to the same set of chairs.

"And that is?"

"Bat-shit insane dads!"

Not even ten minutes later a man dressed in a style reminiscent of a detective from the 30's, fedora and all. He had sharp, royal features and a rough unshaven stubble on his chin. Slightly grown brown hair peeked out in small tufts from underneath his hat.

He smiled at Lucas, his olive eyes gleaming with recognition.

"You must be Thorne, right?"

"Yes I fucking am! And I demand to know why on earth that my son's claims were disregarded!"

The man pulled out one of the many chairs and sat down opposite him.

Kenneth and Damien didn't speak a word, Lucas had the authority of a renowned leader and his anger was something only a moron or a hero would interrupt.

"Listen... Lucas, right? Names Mark. For at least a year now we've had the same lying bunch fuck us off with claims that this small gathering was watching them, every time a new place, a new belief of this gathering. We've just learnt to not give a damn when that type of person makes that type of claim, immature, I know, but it saves a damn lot of time and stops a lot of overtime pay." He remarked with a chuckle, my mind flashed with the thoughts of the resident Goths doing that. Recognition also befell Kenneth.

"That doesn't mean you cannot do your job! When someone makes a claim like that you're obligated to follow by the damn law!"

"I know, it's bad, it's shit, we just don't get much crime here, it's ironic just how many people want to big time cops here though! Damn near everyone that joins the force, can't say I'm not among them."

"You're avoiding the point!"

"Right, right, anyways, between you me and these three, I can get your problem solved, I know who the hell you're talking about. Even though we disregarded your son's claims, doesn't mean we didn't still keep his notes on the man's description. Perfectly fit local nut-case Jack Calhoon."

"I know, I've met him."

"Seemed like a nice guy at first, right?" He chuckled "Sicko got himself booked for ten years for rape, came out and got "reborn", with the local Christian cult."

I had no idea who he was talking about, no matter how long I had lived in the town; my introvert nature only got me so far.

"Real fucking psychos! Listen, these shit heads have been stirring bullshit for years, to be honest, we've always wanted a way to book 'em. They have their hands with the mayor though, one word and suddenly our funding goes poof, and who gives a shit about a small county police station?"

"Right?"

"But you, a big time reporter, listen; I'll strike you a less than legal deal."

"With three kids in the room."

"It does nothing but help them." None of us spoke.

"What is it?"

"We deal with this cult, a head on run in and arrest 'em all. You're claim is good enough to compile enough evidence and just do that. Then, if the mayor spins any shit, you call the bitch out in any and every headline."

Lucas turned to Damien, who shrugged, Kenneth who beamed a grin and me, and all I did was tap my feet and tap my fingers on the cast of my broken arm.

"Sure, why not? you guys fine with that?" Lucas said. To get nods from Damien and Kenneth and landing on a slight one with me, who was **I** going to tell?

Mark glanced to my broken arm.

"How'd that happen."

"He was snuck up on by some guy at school, beat the hell out of him." Damien replied, glaring at the man.

A sly smile fell upon Mark's face.

"And you only know who did it?" He asked me, I only nodded in response. "How about we say it was one of those fanatics, they snuck up on you, beat you up and broke your arm? There's no security cameras in South Park High, I know that."

"What! Why?" Damien suddenly said. Kenneth was confused and Lucas was… strangely monotone.

"More evidence, less of a chance for that bitch mayor to get on our ass."

"Don't you already have enough evidence on these guys?" Asked Kenneth.

"Yeah, but a beat up kid! That'll piss of the entire town if the mayor reduces the funding when we stopped those types of assholes." He said it with the charisma of a spokesperson promoting free speech. It was hard to say no.

And I didn't. I felt the pressure of the situation, like the air had become as thick as a jungles and I could feel my palms and brow cake with sweat.

"Thank you very much Mark, how about you come around my place sometime, catch a beer!" Exclaimed Lucas, now back to his perpetual grin, as we left the building, Mark smiling happily behind. I don't know why but Kenneth Damien and I all held the same feeling of uneasiness, when we looked into each other's eyes we all saw a similar feeling within the other. Confusion, nervousness and slight dread against an unknowable force.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: finished and as of right now I have gotten to 21, although editing shall be hell. I am genuinely surprised that people are enjoying this.**

 **I do not own any copyright.**

Chapter 16

The next day gunshots exploded from the east of town, where the main road passed around the looming mountain and where storage for trade routes were left mostly silent. But not that day. Police sirens blared like crows in the night and rushed, past red stoplights and driving over curbs to a small warehouse on the edge of the city. A warehouse where The Fanatics worshiped God in presumably, the most bizarre way.

' _The police were always going to do this, maybe they caused too much trouble, but the police were always going to do it!_ ' I used as my reasoning throughout the day.

For all of school I was ignored in favour of the confusion on what had transpired at the old abandoned warehouse on Avon Rd. Some guessed it was a drug lord that had been snitched out and the cops had gotten of their lazy arses, some thought the town had just finally gone over the edge and the pigs had went mad. Only two other people had known that they and I were part of the strange police orchestration.

Damien, Kenneth and I stuck closer than before. Seeing as we were in the same room for Break and Lunch it wasn't hard. Subconsciously we had stuck to the same table, Kyle or Stan didn't take notice though.

None of us spoke about it; it wasn't like anyone would ask 'Hey! Were you, for instance, part of that police raid on that cult's warehouse?' Nothing like that was asked and we were all good at keeping our mouths shut.

Even Eric and Trent left me alone when I walked to school, of all the people to give me a day of, I didn't think anything would divert their interest in violence from me, yet I had a day off. It seemed they had better things to do when I was in eyesight. Even when I passed them in the halls, all they did was shove or glare, or in many cases, nothing at all, ignoring me. I think my broken arm elicit the tiniest, miniscule sliver of humanity from their dark, steel hearted souls. Or there was more interesting matters. I assumed the latter.

That evening I walked over to Damien's house, for no reason other than to visit, and found Lucas and Mark - who had accepted Lucas's offer - sitting on the outside in lawn chairs, dressed in light jackets to escape the cold yet enjoying a cooled Coors beer.

At my arrival Mark grinned, wide enough to rival Lucas.

'Ah, you're the kid from yesterday! Pip, right? Luke told me!' He got up and happily moved to my side, placing a hand on my slightly lower head. 'Thanks to you, you put some real shit heads to justice, enjoy it kid!' He exclaimed, gulping down on the alcohol. 'Ya know, ignoring the eyes, I've gotta say you've made yourself a good friend!' For a second he gave me a pat on the back before he continued, 'that Damien kids a nice guy, now you don't have to worry about those religious nuts.'

'Damien's up in his room.' Said Lucas and I quickly made my escape from the two smiling men. As I walked up the stairs to Damien's room, I could hear them laughing heartily.

From inside I could hear a slow melodic guitar strum and the sounds of Ozzy Osbourne's near high-pitched singings burst from inside Damien's room.

I quickly knocked three times.

'It doesn't have a lock Phillip.' Damien said.

'Oh… right.' I muttered as I entered to find him lying on his back, arms rested under his head.

' _ **Is God dead?**_ ' Contemplated the lead from Damien's TV as I meekly moved to his side, he eyed me.

'H-how did you know it was me?'

'The power of windows,' he flatly said.

'Oh.' I simply stated, bringing a chuckle from Damien.

' _ **When will this nightmare be over? Tell me!**_ ' Ozzy continued.

Damien spoke, 'I don't think I've ever felt this good, this… this free? You know?'

'Nuh… Not really, sorry.'

He smiled warmly 'No problem, I guess I've had to deal with this for much longer than you, but… I don't know, it's just good.' He sighed. 'So, what brings you here?'

'Um… Just seeing how you are, I guess.'

'Well, I'm good, you?'

'I'm quite well.'

'How'd you sleep last night?' He asked, rather out of the blue,

'I didn't, you?'

'You really shouldn't do that. But, damn well, very, very-very much well.'

'You seem very happy.' I noted.

'Oh god I am,' he said, relived.

He was genuinely happy, near giddy, even with the gloomy, doom music in the background he smiled at the ceiling in a way that made me think he would burst into laughter.

Lucas and Mark certainly did so from outside.

'Do you want to go on a walk?' He swiftly asked.

I stuttered in, 'S-sure, sure, why?'

'Why the hell not? All of them Pip! All of the registered members off those Fanatics, caught, arrested, Mark said so and Dad's putting it in the newspapers!'

Damien burst to his feet and swiftly strode to the TV:

' _ **The rain turns red**_

 _ **I don't believe that god is Dea-**_ ' Ozzy was cut off by Damien quickly pressing the 'Off' button.

Dressed in his trench coat; he led me outside. Bidding his dad and Mark farewell, we moved on down the street.

We leisurely walked down content streets, the feeling of watching eyes had gone, I felt safer, much, much safer. Maybe it was misplaced; maybe it was foolish to think so.

' _In a week,_ ' I thought ' _I will be brutalised…. Or at least tormented by Eric once more, than Trent and so forth_.' I couldn't help but smile ' _At least that's better then what could have happened, better to have a few knocks to the head, a few blows and a bone broken now and then to be chased by mad men_!'

Damien turned and smiled at me, for no reason or context, he was just as happy as I was.

I felt that things were really going to get better.


	17. Chapter 17

**And Chapter 17, what I would refer to as the end of Part 1,**

 **I don't own copyright.**

Chapter 17

A month passed quickly, my arm healed slowly but, as predicted, the cast came off after three weeks. It took a further two days to get used to moving both arms once again though.

The half term was only two weeks away. It was Tuesday, March the 15th. The weather was the same, the people were the same, the buildings and sidewalks were deteriorating. Nothing much had changed in the month after The Fanatics makeshift church was raided by the police.

The rumours died down quickly when the headline 'Police Raid on Local Cult Reveals A Shocking Discovery.' Written by none other than 'James Dewitt' AKA Lucas's Thorne. I didn't know what specifics in the piece were true, they had been following people but I didn't think they were sacrificing children to God, as it had been stated in the local paper.

I was surprised at how many people in school believed the story,then again, many of the students were gullible teenagers with the lust for intense blood and gore that stemmed from movies, books and games. At least a craving for exaggeration, true gore and viscera would have turned anyone green in the face and stomach. The talk around school had been so unrealistic it would have  
put most gore flicks to shame.

I could not blame anyone though, had the newspapers been correct and The Fanatics - Dubbed: The Church of Our Lord And Saviour - had been participating in the vilest of ceremonies, and then it would only be natural to blow it out of proportion. Or face the harsh, horrifying brutality and reality.

I didn't believe it. Lucas, or James, had brought up missing people's cases from all around the state, and the neighboring ones, saying ' **The cult is believed to be part of a large organisation that the police are searching to eradicate immediately.** ' Such events could not be so intertwined, or at least I hoped so, that, and Damien had flat out said it was all a bunch of lies. No matter how true though, Damien had said, and shown, that his father had made even the most unrealistic article turn over a pretty penny. Somewhere in the thousands I recall, was the bonus that Lucas had gotten, the most exciting thing in North County it was. A police raid with over thirty arrests in one morning. To a Christian cult, in Christian town, in a Christian country, their 'heinous acts' were sure to catch everyone's attention.

Throughout the month, I had learned to deal with Lucas's smiling, and found him to be pleasant company if you ignored the near ever present, grin. I wouldn't have been surprised if it stayed when he slept. I also discovered he was a proficient cook, or at least better than me, but a burning forest could produce more edible meals that I could. There was a reason that I had quite the sum saved after my monthly allowances, and that was the fact that  
many of my meals were either pasta, rice or a vague reminiscence of salad.

I didn't learn of Damian's mother at all, a question that had been confusing me, Damien didn't know of her and Lucas just said that she had gone away some years ago.

He remarked 'It's her fault she didn't get to see such a fine kid grow up.' I had to agree with him.

Mark was a frequent sight, drinking beer and sharing stories with Lucas. I could not tell what they had in common except that Lucas's grin normally never fell and the same was for Mark's royal, aristocratic features.

He was a nice man though, on the small occasions that we talked at least, he seemed to be fine with life staying as stagnant as possible.

'If time stopped, I don't think I'd care.' Was what he had said.

In my time with Damien, I learnt that he did not share any of his father's beliefs, that he merely stated that he had them to make his dad feel better. He wasn't scared that Lucas would tarnish him and throw him out if he outspoken against hell or even heaven. Lucas believed to indulge in sin of course, what passive sin was worse than not believing in God? But Damien cared for his dad very much, and I think it would have not broken Lucas, but Damien, if he saw his father so upset.

I kept up the tutoring with Kenneth, solely to not seem suspicious in front of his friends. I also learnt that he was not very bright with numbers, he was not simple, not at all, and for living in a poor part of town he exuded manners, charm and his so-called natural charisma, at least with strangers. He could worm his way into pretty much anything - although he said in a much, much more vulgar way - but he was low in many subjects. The only one he was good at, near remarkable even, was drama. I had not been false when I thought he was a good actor, his prowess in performing and pretending was better than anyone I had seen in person before. I would have even thought his self-belief in immortality was among one of his many acts, but that was not true. No matter how little he spoke of it, he was still caught off guard by his own mutters, remarking his many 'deaths' and 'rebirths.'

He had said, on a dark Tuesday night, that he was receiving therapy. Expensive therapy at that. Apparently, his father had used his college funds to pay, so 'he would have no mad kids.' Schizophrenia and a diminishing immortality complex was what Kenneth had. His low grades and insane sex drive meant he wasn't on the right track, but he was inching there, if that was anything.

Everything was looking up, I could call Kenneth and Damien friends, Tweek, Kyle and Stan acquaintances and Eric, Trent and many others were tormentors. None were The Fanatics though.

I was correct that the jokes and mockery would begin anew. The cults widespread 'brutality' and my broken arm had spared me the beatings though, at least for some time, I didn't know whether to be terrified or glad at that.

But none of my tormentors were The Fanatics, and I don't think I could have been happier.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: This chapter may have more punctuation errors as I've been stuck useing Google Docs and not Word.**

 **Anyway, I own no copyright.**

Chapter 18

On March the 16th the streets were strangely empty. I had gotten virtually no sleep, interrupted by visions of a crawling, invisible mass at the edge of my bed snarling silently with a thousand unseeable maws, groping at the edge of my bed with arms that weren't there and watching with pulsating eyes.

The few people who I saw out and walking all held a similar expression. Nervous, watching their backs and two, I noticed, eyed me carefully as if I were a known felon. The cars drove slow and cautious, heedful of anyone who passed their doors and almost all had their windows closed. I felt as if I had missed some civil war and everyone was everyone else's enemy. I noticed a strange amount of students were being driven to school by their worried parents.

I heard bustle and talking around school, odd snippet of conversation and gossip that confused me.

"It was an awful sight," said one Wendy Testaburger, the top of the school in grades, as I slowly passed her and her group on the way to Tutor. That was my first tip off of sorts to know that the day would be bad, that something bad enough to warrant a loud exclamation in the hallways. One of her friends looked ill and pale, her freckles standing out like small incisions on her cheeks. Many of them looked, much like their parents, skittish, on edge. Did this bloody, violent, unseeable paranoia extend to everyone. Except Wendy apparently, she was one to be well known for her constant steel demeanor.

Damien didn't know when I asked him, his father had been fine with him taking the bus. The stop was abandoned apparently, no one in sight for miles, the only other person was far away from him. In a place almost always crowded with unwilling people, he had been alone, his only company being the somberly singing wind. Mr Yates was uncaring as ever, whatever happened was no concern of his, as was anything.

In my walk to Spanish I heard much of the same from the halls, hushed whispers in corners, questions of uncertainty that, when answered brought gasps and surprise. the teacher didn't seemed very fazed, but for all I knew that was a veil of professionalism.

Break was spent with Kyle who was alone in the room, everyone else apparently had things to run up on or, in the case of Kenneth, to probably try and seduce.

"D-do you know what's going on? With all the muttering and fear?" I had asked.

"I have no god damned clue!" He had exclaimed suddenly "My mom just got a call, and all of a sudden she rushed us in the car and drove me straight to school, Dad took my brother. It's really damn annoying."

"Damien didn't know either."

"Stan might. I'll ask him later." He sighed "This always happens, something big and all of a sudden I'm confused."

"I-I guess it's the same for me."

"Whatever it is, I don't like it one bit. My mom's normally over protective and bearing, but for three years she's been fine with me taking the bus and when she's fine with it, she's fine with it for rain or shine… For her to be this worried, it's something bad, very, very bad."

I was stuck in the familiar void of a lack of information for much of the school day, in History I was surprised that Ms Averon did not have her excess of makeup, she was tired and sullen, her crone's looks flaring her old age and sadness, tear stains down her cheeks and the bags around her eyes - which would have normally been mistaken for wrinkles - were red and stuffy. I noticed she downed three cups of coffee as she put on a VHS, tracing her pointer finger around the rim of each cup as she finished them and got more.

I was stuck against Eric who was far too focused on making jokes about my long 'faggot' hair and whacking me upside the head. Such… childish antics were against Eric, he was a malicious, vile sociopath who enjoyed beating me to near unconsciousness, his new tameness terrified me. It meant he was probably planning something. For him to not be relishing in Mrs Averons sadness and the fear that had gripped town and instead to be acting like he had for the past month made me think he had something big in store, and something to be prepared for or face consequences unknown.

It was as I was leaving, and ignoring Mrs Averons near plastic crow face, that Erec's malicious true nature revealed itself.

He grabbed onto my shoulder and span me to face me, and I saw that he held the most sinister, calculating smirk yet. He looked at me for some seconds, he seemed nearly possesed with how wide and gleeful his eyes were.

"I want to tell you something French." He had lowly whispered, in a tone reminiscent of a beast's snicker. "And that is, that you, my dear French, are in for something bad, one month is a long time. Watch your back, ok?" He said, and then walked passed me, making sure to knock me out of the way with his shoulder and to spare a angry glare. A glare that revealed the anger that made every cell in his being and fueled his hatred not for only me, but for humanity as a whole. Eric was insane.

No one interrupted me on my way through fourth period and at break Mr Hedgesons room held all the expected characters.

When I had finally seated myself I built the courage to ask.

"H-hey, what's, uh, what's everyone going on about?" I asked Stan, who was stuck idly doing nothing at all as Kenneth was smiling and laughing at whatever Kyle was attempting to study. I had learned when he was exaggerating his feelings from our few sessions together and just being around him. Kyle could to, and he humoured Kenneth, it was probably for the best.

"You mean that murder right?" He said, unconsciously lowering his voice and bringing a pen from his jacket pocket .

"Murders?" Asked Damien from behind me.

"Over in that little…" Stan paused and began rolling his pen by his middle finger over his thumb, "what's the word… uh." He paused and scrunched his eyebrows in thought, scrutinizing himself. "Oh, yeah, the occult shop, ya know the one on the other side of town?" I slowly nodded and he continued, still rolling the pen back and forth. "A… uh, A- a kid, that history teachers grandson if I'm right, cut to shreds." My eyes widened and I clenched my palms together. "He was found by… the owner.. Of the store, I mean, I think, I don't know nothing else." He sighed. "Everyone thinks it was those same cult guys from a couple weeks ago."

I felt my hopes burn up in a raging inferno, that seard like magma but was as silent as air in a pressure suit. ' _Oh no_.' I thought as I changed my fingers position and began tapping my right hand fingers on the back of my left. ' _No, a coincidence._ ' I turned to Damien and he didn't seem as worried as I was. I slowed my tapping and just exhaled a breath I didn't know I had been containing.

"Oh.. oh god." I muttered. "That's… that's awful."

"I guess." Stated Stan as he looked at us, slightly on edge. "I mean, it's not nice is it, damn, the cops better get this sorted out, I hear the kid had nothing to do with the shop, plucked off the street. I'm thinking in the long run, what if these sick bastards keep going on, what if it's me, or... or you or Kyle or anyone. Who knows who's next? Those...those kids, the one from that cult, they were from all around the state, not here but this… this is from here! It happened here!" Stan exclaimed. "Who knows who's next."

Behind him I saw Kenneth was staring at Stan, his eyes wide and with a small sheen of sweat on his brow. He breathed heavily, with worry, his eyes showed a primal fear, the fear for the family, he had his sister, a young sister who I had seen that he cared for like a daughter. Neither of us knew the age of the dead child, or if that mattered, all he knew was that she could be in danger. After all she wasn't 'immortal.'

I had at least learnt what had gotten everyone terrified beyond their imagination. There could be a killer in town. And this time it was no fake story in the newspapers by 'James Dewitt', a mad man was on the streets, prowling, murdering a kid for no reason. Going to kill more, maybe aiming aimlessly. a beast, a monster among men, a primal animal wrapped in human skin with a taste for its brother. We all knew this would escalate, and we all knew that it would get worse and worse. An organised cult can be dealt with, one man, praying alone on the weak and unsuspecting in a town which was ignored, was a case that could possibly be never solved.

In that moment the town seemed a lot smaller than I had once thought it was.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

When a murder occurs in a small town, the panic is always large but subtle. Light glances behind your shoulder and keeping trained on unusual and queer looking people. An example would be myself, I do not retort when anyone says I dress, talk and seem like an eccentric. Many of my qualities mark me as the other, a thing I had come to accept. However, in a time when everyone is as paranoid as a chain-smoking stoner it was easy to become awkward and slightly nervous at the watching eyes of anyone on the streets.

On the afternoon after learning about the murder I was once again at Damian's house, in light of the recent happening Mark was not there to share a beer with Lucas. Lucas himself seemed very much unfazed by the news, but it must have been just natural after living in a big city like Chicago. I assumed that death and tragedy lurked in every corner and dark, cloaked alleyway.

The shadows of the next-door offices seemed more overpowering, oppressing, _darker_ than usual as if the sun were morbidly brighter after such a evil discovery. I pondered on how Damien could live under such darkness.

No cars drove by, no one walked, everyone was contained except the brave would walk the streets until the police or any official spoke. If it weren't for the necessity of work I wouldn't have even wondered if groups of townsfolk were to hide themselves in bunkers until the killer had been caught, or stopped. In one afternoon the news had spread to every man, woman and child, as fast as the black plague, and everyone had the same thought ' _If it happens again, will it be me? My family? My friends?_ '

All except Lucas apparently. I yearned to have his big-city attitude, minus the smile and unnerving happiness. It truly shined like a searchlight in such sombre situations.

"Why should I worry?" He had said as we ate dinner, "If they were to attack the office district for whatever reason, he would have to break in, the police aren't that slow. In an isolated place like this were in the shadows, cozy and unnoticed. Even with that we have the great lord favouring us. "His grin stretched wider."I chose this house because it was easy to miss, you walk down the street and think it is but offices, only in daylight do you notice it, and who attacks a house at daylight?" He asked, leaving a silence that seemingly whispered ' _it makes sense_ ' over and over as we finished eating in silence.

Even though _they_ had 'The Great Lord', it was still unsafe for me to be wandering dark streets alone and Lucas offered me a ride.

'This surely has gotten everyone scared stiff!'He had exclaimed as we quickly made our way around a few small turnings, only about five minutes from my apartment. I counted five cars as we drove.

'Yeah, it's a small town, as you know there's only about two-thousand or so. One out of two-thousand people is quite the amount. A child... that only makes it worse, doesn't it?'

We slowed for a stop light, the lack of cars meant we probably could have speeded and no one would notice, but that would still have probably been a stupid idea.

He gave a glance over to me. "I can see what you mean, but, you really shouldn't fret." The light turned green, he didn't move. I looked at him confused. His grin, his goddamned, bloody grin. Wide with teeth that shined like a dagger in the night. He looked as mad as any villain from every story I had read. "I don't mean to scare you with this, but… you have a mark… a quality of sin that is so glorious, so magnificent, brilliant, shining, **ungodly** that neither god, nor satan shall smite you. You have a subtle sin, so, so lovely and subtle." He laughed three short, quiet laughs that he stopped quickly. "But then again, doesn't everyone live with a small sin on their backs? On their lips… on their mind"

The rest of the drive was silent and quiet, awkward and with an air of fear. I couldn't decide if Lucas Thorne was insane or devoted. Or were they both the same thing? If there was one thing that happened in that final stretch of drive to my apartment, it was that whatever tolerance I had learnt for Lucas was as dead as the town's night air was silent.

When we arrived outside my apartment I speedily left his car, brought his door to a sudden close and sprinted my way to the inside. By the time I was at my floor I was huffing and near grasping for air but I did not care. I had found myself tired for once, spent and fed up, the talk with Lucas had taken something out of me and I needed rest badly. The closing of my wooden door sounded like a shotgun blast next to my ear, and brought a splitting headache.

I fell asleep that night, it was inevitable, I had absentmindedly wandered into my bedroom, nearly forgetting to lock the door, and landed on my bed. It had been two days since I got any real sleep for longer than a few minutes. Within seconds I had drifted into my own mind.

The nightmare was an unusual one, the type of terror-dream in which you don't see or hear or even feel the thing that causes nocturnal shivers. It was both dark and light, the world was both black and white and deep, crimson red and an ominous, tainted blue that stood on top and next to each other but didn't conjoin to create a vile purple repulsive offspring.

The splash of conflicting colours and blurred memories of years gone past seem more confusing than terrifying in retrospect but in the moment, they were more dreadful than facing a monster of legend in the face.

When I woke up it was not with a frightened scream of complete terror but a silent gasp as my eyes burst open to a dark, cream coloured room with my heart poundeing at my chest, my hair and body were soaked in sweat and my clothes stuck to my body as if it had been a boiling summer afternoon.

I breathed heavily for a minute or two, just staring at the ceiling and thinking about nothing. By the lack of light from my window I assumed that I had slept for maybe three to four hours, not a tremendous rest but one that was better than most.

Groggily I got up and removed the uncomfortable, sticking clothing. I felt dirty and grimy as if I had taken a dip in swamp water. Gas bills be damned, I went to have a very long hot shower to keep my mind off the previous night and day.

I was refreshed and clean but my mind found itself wandering to Lucas's statement ' **a quality of sin that's so** **_ungodly_** **** **that not even God or Satan shall smite you** ' was how I remembered it. Lucas must have misjudged me, I didn't consider myself sinless but I prided myself on my gentlemanliness, did that want to be such a person count as a form of lust or greed. ' _Or he's playing you on,_ ' I thought. I gave a brief chuckle to the air, that had to be it, nothing but a little silly ploy. Nothing to worry about. He may be not entirely sane, who wasn't, but he was probably nowhere near mad.

Day dawned quickly over the mountains and the streets were near silent, but some people braved the outside. The fresh air had become Cyanide and the snow was nitrogen to most.

I felt safe though to walk to school, Eric's mother was notoriously overbearing and coddling, in such a time she would definitely be giving her 'sweetums' a lift to school. And Trent…Trent had always been unpredictable, random and a near opposite of Eric, Trent was random and unthinking, the only thing they had in common was that they acted on impulse, only that Eric gave a brief think on his actions before he acted. Nether repressed them fully though.

A few cars drove quickly passed and a few people looked at me oddly, as I quickly slipped by them.

Ms Averon was not in school for the day, apparently she had only heard the rumours yesterday and was revealed the bad news a few hours after school. The fast news of the town obviously wasn't so fast to reach her.

Kenneth wasn't in, Kyle or Stan knew why. His sister, he assumed, he was virtually her parent and in recent news he would be guarding her like a falcon would for their eggs. Stan even guessed that he may have locked both of themselves in "his little whore hole" as he called it. I guessed he would have even spent the day just aiming that gun of his at the door, if such an act wouldn't have scared his sister.

"We're going to check on him after school," said Kyle "we've seen him bad, back when he still had that immortality… thing, he was always on edge. This is not going to be good for him, seeing as you've gotten quite chummy with him would you mind coming with?"

"Sure, why not, I never have plans." Damien said. "He's been a pretty cool guy so, yeah, why not, I guess I owe him one."

"He helped you through some shit didn't he?" Asked Stan, who was sitting directly next to Kyle, they were definitely closer than Siamese Twins.

"Yeah, you could say that." Damien said, obviously avoiding the topic.

Suddenly, Stan looked at him intently. "You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

"To what?" Damien asked, uncomfortable under Stan's gaze.

"Your eyes. They're fucking weird." Kyle gave him a slight slap around the shoulder. "What! It's true."

Damien waved him off "It's fine, I've heard that a hundred times, I know it's weird. I have had to live with them."

Stan asked, "how do you deal with it?" And leaned forward to get a better look at the blood like orbs, Damien shuffled a little further back his chair bumping into mine. Kyle just looked at Stan as if he had just committed genocide.

"I have to live with it, that's how I deal with it."

Kyle grabbed Stan by the hem of his shirt and tugged him backwards, much to Damien's relief.

Stan, embarrassed and cherry red, muttered, "Right, sorry," and moved a bit back from Damien. "I'm just curious, you know?'

Damien gave a short laugh that was more like an inhale, "if I had a nickel for every time someone said that."

"How many would you have?" Asked Kyle.

Damien paused for a second, "... one, maybe two nickels," he said, nearly as embarrassed as Stan.

If Kenneth were there I would have expected him to remark with, "wow! You could buy the whole city," or at least something along those lines.

"After school right?" I said, trying to change the subject.

Kyle played along, "yeah, after school."

A second ticked in silence, another went, but was quickly interrupted by the bell obnoxiously renting the air and declaring the end of launch and that it was time to trudge to tutor, and then fifth period.

I was oddly care free for the remainder of the School day, I have no idea why but I was, maybe it was because if I went to Kenneth's with nothing but dark thoughts then I would find myself panicking until we reached his doorstep, some hour away. That changed though, when I was just a corridor away from the exit, a shaky hand grabbed me by the shoulder.

It was Tweek, looking as nervous as he always had, but something was off, he frowned slightly, worried.

"H-hay, u-uh P-Pip?"

"Yes?"

"Um… in, uh, last lesson, C-Craig uh, saw that T-Trent was, uh, smiling a-at you, l-like,r-r-really, uh… e-evil was h-how h-he put it."

"Why'd Craig tell you to tell me?"

Tweek fell silent, his brows scrunched and he was just as confused. "N-no idea, I kn-know h-he hates Trent mo-more th-than you. T-that and I guess he thought th-that you deserved t-to know."

I gave him a small smile, hiding my dread that I had missed _that_ for a whole hour. "Thanks, I… I guess I'm in debt to the both of you, thanks."

Tweek shuddered impulsively and ran his thumb in a circle in the palm of his other hand. "I-it's n-nothing, just… ju-just be c-careful."

I gave him a nod, "ok, will do," and left out the building, keeping my eyes behind in case Trent appeared once more. Both his and Eric's rejuvenation to hurting me seemed worse than ever. The watching eyes appeared once more.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"What the hell did happen with you and Kenny?" Asked Kyle to Damien as we left the school gates.

"Nothing much, he was just in trouble with some stuff and we lent him a hand." Kyle looked over in disbelief, probably at his vagueness but pushed no further.

We walked for some time before Stan took the lead, and turned with a near mischievous look and said "I bet you wanna know why Kyle asked you to come with?"

Kyle glared.

Sure, why not?" Said Damien.

"Cus' his mom, as fat ass has put it, is the most overprotective, insane woman in town."

"No. Cartman said she was the biggest kike bitch on Earth," Kyle replied, feigning nonchalance.

"Whatever, but I have to say thanks."

"Uh... Why?" I asked.

"Cus' his mom's right to be worried," from my side I saw Kyle glare, a red tint on his cheeks, "if we didn't have you guys around I'd have to walk alone, and fuck that!'

"Glad we could be of help," Damien said.

"She's not that bad," argued Kyle.

"Yes she is!" He turned back to us, "anyway, yeah, thanks for basically being around, Kenny couldn't have picked a better time, because fuck walking alone right now." He rejoined us in our slow march forward, "hell, fuck just walking with Kyle."

Damien smirked, "because a bullied orphan and a… well, me, can help you fend off some trained killer."

"Who says he's trained?" Kyle said. "Chances are he's just some sick whacko. It was a kid that was murdered wasn't it?'

"Yeah," answered Damien, seeming somewhat out of it. We were reaching the invisible barrier from working class to unemployed. Only about ten minutes from Kenneth's house.

'So he's probably only starting small if he is some serial killer. We wouldn't even be targets until it was the fith or even sixth killing, as damn sick as it is, it's the truth. My mom's just… too worried."

"I…" I started, gaining their attention, " I really hope to god that this all ends soon, the silence is… bad."

"Doesn't everyone?" Kyle said, Stan nodded.

"I guess I haven't been here long enough." Responded Damien.

"Well..." Kyle trailed off looking around at the quiet mass of run down houses and trailer parks, it was silent, the wind could be heard silently escaping from the desolation. Flakes of snow and dust following suite.

"Shit, Kenny hasn't gone and done a runner with the rest of his neighbours has he."

"They're… um, I guess it's because that… they're the most vulnerable." I quietly muttered under my breath

"What?" Asked Stan.

"Um…" I faked a cough to 'bring' my voice back to full level. "It's uh… nothing, just… just nothing."

'Seriously, what did you say?" Pressed Damien.

I gave in, "oh, it's just that, well, it's never really been very safe here to begin with, why… why wouldn't people lock themselves in?"

'Well…" Stan started as we began moving, "imagine Kenny stuck with his entire family for a day! He'll need that immortality! "

The shadows of the trailers crawled towards the road, urged on by the moving sun that made the world as bright as a fogged morning.

At least one or two people were outside in the town's center.

Dirt crunched beneath our feet in an erratic, random melody.

"Shit man, I don't think I've ever realised how serious this is." Stan said.

"Yeah." Kyle muttered, "yeah… it's real serious."

It was as quiet as a tree, where only the breeze could create a natural sound, and there was no breeze.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: and chapter 21, this was hell to edit, for some reason I had autocorect on and the word 'gun' was constantly replaced with 'gin.'**

 **I have no idea, anyways, i don't own South Park, enjoy the terrible writing and not understanding of suspense.**

Chapter 21

If the poor district where the set to a post-apocalyptic movie, then when we arrived at Kenneth's house, it would be the centrepiece where the characters partook in poorly written social commentary.

The only reason it seemed so much more alive was because Kenneth was sitting on the steps outside, just waiting.

He took a glance up, having seen the shadows approaching and was surprised to see us, "oh, hey guys!"He said with a wide, false grin.

Kyle looked at him stern and commanding, "why the hell weren't you at school?"

Kenneth took a glance at his house and shrugged, "Karen, ya know, I can't trust those pricks to look after them."

"Shouldn't she be in school?"Said Stan.

"She's ill."

Damien looked at him confused, "then why are you outside?"

Kenneth suddenly erupted in a fit of laughter, very out of place and awkward to watch. He sobered up in a blink and stated, "Because Dad figured out that his .45 went missing, he ain't gonna find it though!"

"Jesus Christ Kenny!" Kyle exclaimed. "What the fuck are you doing with a handgun?"

Kenneth shot a quick glance to Damien, who quickly shook his head, fast enough that I nearly missed it from next to him.

"It's America ain't it? Who the fuck doesn't have a gun?"

"Yes, but what the hell do **you** need a gun for?"

"Have you seen where I live? If anywhere's a target, it's this shit hole. I'm... I'm… anyway, I'll be fine, if that shit head gets even a centimetre to here I'll strangle the fucking life out of him!"

Stan was the next to talk, "even so, fuck man, do you even know how to actually use a gun."

"I live in a town of rednecks, shit, your uncle owns a gun store, of course I do!"

"I mean actually how to use a gun except "aim and shoot"

Kenneth looked at him with conviction, "yes. Yes I do. What the fuck do you think I do in my spare time?"

"Screw chicks," Stan flatly said.

Kenneth sniggered, as if not detecting Stan's sarcasm "I meant in the day!"

Stan looked at him as deadpan as his voice.

"You should really get to school though."

"Tomorrow's Friday, no one gives a shit if you skip on Friday, and I'm not going until Karen's better, I ain't fucking moving until she's fit for school and safe."

He was certainly stubborn, a trait I couldn't blame him for, many times in our 'tutoring sessions' had he told me of the hardships of living on next to nothing. Yet he never accepted when I offered him anything.

Kyle butted in, "well, you're not going inside anytime soon, we both know that. So come on, you can stay around my place until tomorrow."

"You know I can't leave Karen."

"She'll be fine until tomorrow, so come on?"

Kenneth hesitated for a second, casting a glance over each of us before considering, "fine, but I'll beat the ever-loving shit out of you if you're wrong."

"Sure."

Thus the air fell as silent as a high, snow capped mountain peak where no one could live. I walked on edge, Tweek's words falling heavy on my mind, an invisible, psychic hand pushing me down, Trent or Eric or any of their companions would be around any corner, waiting and plotting, watching and noting.

Every silent house had invisible eyes between the dirty drapes, forever staring at me or the group. All with a malicious grin hidden by shadowy features.

It didn't take long for me to begin lagging behind everyone else. With the sun beginning its descent to the west, shining the world in a fading orange that would soon give way to a starless black.

The others went three steps ahead, then five and soon I was near to losing them.

For the rest of the walk that happened three or four times, even as we passed the invisible barrier I was slower, Damien or Kenneth stopped, letting me catch up and then the two of us would reconvene with the group.

"Are you ok?"Kenneth had finally asked on his second stop.

I meekly replied, "Yeah, it's nothing," and he shrugged me off.

It was as we were only ten minutes from Kyle's house that we heard a large echoing blast.

 _ **BANG!**_

Gunfire, like an exploding firework, booming around the street like it was a grand hall. As if it were rebounding off every house until it reached us, shaking us to the core.

'What the fuck was that?" Said Damien.

'Nothing I want to be a part of, let's hurry up."Kyle said.

Hurry we did, as people looked out of their windows, curious to the sound.

 _ **BANG!**_

At that the curious retreated, it wasn't very far away, maybe one or two streets.

Quiet followed soon after the second shot.

"Fuck walking into that!" Stan declared. "We're heading in any direction but Kyle's place, who lives to the south?"

"There's only my place." Said Kenneth

Stan started, "and we aren't getting-"

I interrupted him, "y… You can stay around mine until the police deal with this; it's not very far away."

"Are you sure it's fine for all of us?" Damien said.

"I-... I don't mind, there won't just be a lot to do."

"Well, that's sure better then dealing with some asshole with a handgun!"Kenneth exclaimed. "Wait. But we have to head this way to reach your place, how are we going to get there?"

"Alleys." I simply responded.

"Alleys?" He asked.

"Just follow me." I responded and for some twenty minutes, I was some sort of leader for them.

By ten, we heard sirens off, not too far away, blaring in alarm towards whoever had made the shots.

"How the fuck do you deal with this, it's claustrophobic as all shit!" Kenneth exclaimed when we made a final turn to where my apartment stood. I didn't comment.

"Wasn't it you who said that it's better than dealing with an asshole with a handgun. Well that's better than dealing with an overweight sadistic prick." Damien said.

"Just call him fat ass, it's easier," Kyle had said.

I silently led them to my apartment.

"Jesus! How the hell do you afford this?" Stan exclaimed when we finally entered my flat.

"The orphanage pays for it. It's quite cheap and is better than what I would have caused there."

"What the hell kind of problems would **you** cause!" Damien said , shocked, he had never pried as to my living conditions before.

"The same problem I have in school." I explained as I gave a brief tour of the small flat, the others seated themselves in the living room as Damien followed me into the kitchen. I quickly continued what I was saying, "technically the place is paid for by my parent's life insurance, the orphanage just pay for my food and the sorts."

"Who were your parents?" He asked. "Do you actually know anything about them?"

I brought out a six-pack of coca-cola from my fridge; I couldn't be bothered to make refreshments.

"Nothing I'm afraid, they didn't live here long and were killed in… a robbery or car crash, I can't remember."

"Shit, that's gotta suck."

"I wouldn't know," I sadly responded, "I've never known what it's like to have parents." I smiled a little before continuing, "I can't let that get me down, I've got bigger problems though."

I may not know the loving hug of a mother or the proud look of a father; or even the resentful look of a mother to an unwanted child or the lack of a father, or vice versa. That didn't matter though, over a year of living by myself had proven that I could handle enough strife.

When I began to move into the main hall, Damien stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

He moved to my side and looked me in the eyes with a mix of gloom and... admiration if I could call it that. "Listen… I respect you man," he said, he then took the six-pack in my confusion and delivered it to the others.

That one sentence calmed me of the previous days fears, and the psychic hand had became a little less forceful.

Kenneth had asked if he could smoke and I saw no reason as to why he couldn't, as long as the window was open.

"The fuck do you think happened?"He had asked before he took a long drag, before blowing out the smoke in a large cloud then took a gulp from the red can.

Kyle answered offhandedly, "In the street? Burglary? Robbery?"

"In daylight?" Responded Damien.

"I guess that would be a bit stupid-'

"It's another murder, the same fucks." Kenneth said, taking another inhale. "I just know it!"

"It seems that's the only thing right now," I said.

"I sure hope Dad and Mom are ok, it sounded like it came from that way," Stan said, his voice thick with worry.

Kenneth gave a short chuckle, and swigged some more of his drink, "your sister would just beat the shit out of them."

"She's out in Denver," Stan replied.

Kenneth took one more drag, bringing the cigarette halfway to completion, he moved to the window and tipped the ash outside and it fell quickly out of sight. "She'd find a way; well... at least they're far away from my place."

Stan looked at him, stern, "and them being near mine is better?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you know I didn't mean it like that?"

Stan shook his head and his worry changed to guilt, "sorry man, I'm just a little freaked, ya know?"

Kenneth took one more, final inhale to prolong the cigarette smoke, "yeah, I know what you mean,'he then dropped the butt of the smoke out of the window. He finished the last of his drink, brought out another smoke and stared at it for a second before choosing not to and put the packet back in his jean pockets. "Bastards," he muttered, barely audible.

"True," Damien said.

From the window I could see the fading sunlight.

"Do you think it's safe for you to be walking home in the dark?" I concernedly asked.

` "I'll get my Mom to pick us up soon, she won't mind doing it at anytime of the night with the town like this."

I nodded.

"I hear there's gonna be a town wide curfew if this keeps up."

"As if we need it!" Kenneth called out. "No one's going fucking outside for god knows how long…" He sighed before changing the subject by turning to me, "hey, sorry to be a prick but… mind if I crash here, I can't be fucked with being home right now. Karen should be fine, she better be fucking fine."

"Sure, yes, yeah, you can stay," I answered.

"Thanks," he said, grabbing the final can, breaking it open and tipping it down. "I just can't be fucked today," he muttered.

Kyle's mom, Sheila, arrived quickly, with news that many of the roads had been blocked, it wasn't as if there was going to be traffic though.

They had left fast, urged on by the woman who held the power of a ruthless queen in her tongue, their "thank you's" and "goodbye's" left in the unreachable past.

"You ever tried one?" Asked Kenneth as we sat in the living room, he was holding out his packet of cigarettes, one was sticking out.

"Uh... No, no I haven't."

He gave a sad smile, "good. It fucks with your insides, don't try them."

"Why do you do it then?"

His smile fell, "it used to be because I was... well, thought I was immortal, now it's just because I can't really stop… or care to stop, I can't tell, and to be honest," a false smile grew, "I don't think I even care if I do or not."

I was shocked that he had talked of his 'immortality', it was a subject he had kept under a mental lock and key, I thought, to be left to grow dust and be swarmed by spider webs and eggs.

"Ya know, it's this sort of shit that's gonna leave me sad, don't do what I do," he said, upset and knowledgeable.

"And what's that? You're not going be sad, you don't have to be left like that."

"Smoking, fucking everything and hating everything, that's the shit, and hell, be glad you don't have to deal with it, because you are smart."

"You're smart and… why do you hate everything?" I pleaded, moving to sit next to him. I had never expected that I would ever have to give emotional support to anybody.

He stayed quiet and thought, slowly he continued, "Because I can't get it all… because I'm stuck as a fucking whoreish prick, because I'm shit at everything." He put up a grin, this one looked authentic but for all I knew it could have been false, "there's no reason to worry about me though, you've got bullshit to deal with, and so do I."

Slowly and shakily, I put a hand on his shoulder and lightly gripped, he looked at me with bewilderment.

I said, clumsily, "listen… uh, Kenneth… You're my friend, ok?" And his eyes softened slightly, his raised brows falling and he looked at me with understanding. The overhead light was dim and only revealed half of his face, as if the shadows were slowly creeping across his body to cloak him.

Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips, quick and feelingless.

In response I began stuttering, fumbling over words that I didn't know how to say, my face felt like all its blood in was boiling and seeping through my skin in a bright red crimson.

He sniggered for a second before cracking into loud, roaring laughter, falling on his back so he was draped over the sofa, clutching his sides and giggling like a child. Every couple of seconds he looked at my embarrassed face and a new wave of light laughter overtook him.

"Oh god… your face… your god damned face!"He got out between outbursts.

' _Why did he do that? Why did he do that?"_ Was the only thing I could think while I stared at him in discomfort.

Finally I got out, "Wh-... Why?"

"Why… why not? I wanted to see what your face would look like! And fucking hell did it break the tension!"

"S… so-"

"That was nothing but me being a shit-head?" he interrupted. "Yes!" Three laughs seeped through the confines of his vocal cords, "yes it was!"

I was just stuck in a stunned silence, stuttering and muttering like an idiot.

"Hey!" He said suddenly. "Calm down! It's not like I'm going to fuck you or anything, I wouldn't even do that if you asked!"

In response, and embarrassment, I shuffled away from him and turned to focus on anything else, just so I could get my thoughts in check.

Kenneth laughed once more. At least he seemed better, even if it flustered and embarrassed me.

I had quietly offered Kenneth my room and with a smile and a pat on my head he retired to sleep.

I hoped to god that he would never decide to kiss me again, if the reaction was so awkward I would rather throw myself out of a window and into a sea of razor blades and vinegar. I loved Kenneth as a friend but his leniency and uncare in life was a thing to behold and fear, for such a person could always be your friend but when he was your enemy, he was ruthless. There was an older teen in my orphanage much like that, who had gotten himself arrested for murder that had happened three years before I met Damien.

That night I didn't sleep and I didn't ponder on why Kenneth **actually** had done what he did and thought about the gunshots from before.

I remembered them vividly, and I could almost hear them echo around my living room, a monstrous roar of a bang as the only warning for an imminent demise.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Chapter 22, nearly halfway through (I can guess from my notes at least) so that's a thing. Also, I am really chuffed that people are enjoying this (for some reason).**

Chapter 22

When Kenneth awoke at around five A.M we had shared a look that said that we would not talk about the previous night when. I had decided that it was truly nothing but a joke and a sudden way to change the topic. It didn't stop it being an awkward and stupid act on his part though.

He came out dressed in his plain white shirt and slightly ripped jeans, he looked tired and groggy his hair was greasy and messed and his skin was pale. Dark circles ringed his eyes but he said he was fine.

He regrettably accepted my offering of toast and Orange Juice, all of which he downed with a healthy cigarette soon after. I realised from the packet that in the night he had gotten through over half of it.

"You think she's ok?" He had absentmindedly said as grey solar rays speared through the desolate oaks that littered the looming mountain.

I responded "Karen?" And at his sad look I gave him a pat on the shoulder and what I could guess was a reassuring look, "she's fine."

A small sliver of confidence grew, "we heard those gunshots, they were from those pricks, so she has to be safe, she would be so far away," he said.

"Hopefully they were just someone accidentally firing and that murder has left town" I replied.

"They haven't." Kenneth responded with conviction.

"Yeah… yeah he hasn't," I agreed, sadly casting my gaze to the ground.

He let out a guttural sigh, "the time?"

I checked my phone, "five thirty-six."

He moved from the window and grabbed his parka from the bedroom, he didn't zip it up.

"If anyone saw me like this they'd have thought that I actually fucked you last night," he said with a mischievous grin. He continued, "I'm off to check on Karen."

When he got to the front door I stopped him, "do you mind if I come with you, it's not particularly safe to move alone."

"Oh, and you'll protect me? Sure, c'mon." I tailed behind.

We left the building and the bitter cold was quick, Kenneth swiftly pulled up his hood, shrouding his face with shadows and zipped up his Parka. He looked ready to reveal a knife from his pocket and mug someone, or me.

The town had that dark, foreboding silence that gave answers quickly, once more someone had defiantly been murdered, the population of two-thousand was shortening far too fast.

"Fuuuuuck," Kenneth said to the air.

"What is it?" I asked, "the silence?"

"Remember Stan saying about a curfew? If that's put on I'll be in the shit."

"Why?!

"I'll have to spend more time with my fucking parents. Fuck that! I'd rather be booked."

"What about Karen?"

He groaned in response.

We arrived soon after, I felt somewhat comforted by being with Kenneth, he could look after himself, he was no barroom brawler but he could give an act of confidence that would make a barbarian step down.

His door was locked tight, when he unlocked it with his key it still wouldn't budge.

"Did they buy a fucking bolt? Pricks!" He cried in outrage.

"Hey, at least Karen's safe," I reasoned.

"Well, that's something." He paused and tried the door once more, a _thump_ of resistance and nothing more, "of all the times for the piece of shit to be a sturdy bastard," he mumbled.

"What are you going to do?"

He took a quick glance at the house, "I've got an idea."

"What?"

He stayed silent for a second and made a move around the side of the house. He looked up to the second story window; I feared what he was planning.

"Would you be against getting on my shoulders-?"

"I'm not breaking into your house!" I shouted. if there was one thing I was stuck in the ground on not being, that was a criminal… an intentional criminal, I had mentally excluded myself from the police's dealings with The Fanatics.

"No! Don't worry, that's my sister's room, I want you to see if she's ok."

I gave a sigh of relief, "uh… sure, fine."

"Thanks man!"

Shakily, I moved myself to his crouched form and the seeds of trepidation grew, nervousness planted a bud in my chest and smothered it with greenery, my breath stood still. I stood on his shoulders and kept my hands on the wall, he effortlessly lifted himself, even as I was shaking like I had been held at gunpoint.

Her room came into view and I saw the dyeing, peeling pink on the walls, the shelves with a variety of stuffed animals and her bead, which was comparable to a slab of wood with a mattress on top. It looked more comfortable to sleep on the ground.

She was only around nine or ten, sleeping peacefully, in the dark she looked like a noblewoman, pale and fair, hair splayed underneath her head. Her chest rose up and down slowly. The awkward part was that she had no top on and her small breasts had been revealed to the world.

"She's fine!" I quickly called in shock and hastily I scrambled off Kenneth's shoulders, and made a small jump onto the ground.

"Jesus!" Kenneth said, rubbing his shoulders, "she's not that ugly is she?"

"No… she was naked," I muttered in embarrassment.

Once more, Kenneth laughed at me.

When he calmed down, he kept a hand firm on my shoulder and stared at me, carefree. "If you weren't so obviously queer I'd punch you in the face."

"Wait! What?"

"Well, scrambling and blushing, I'da thought you had a thing for her, and then I'd beat the shit out of you."

"No, no no, what you just said!"

"What? About you being queer? Ah, shuddup Pip, you're the biggest faggot on earth, now, I guess we've gotta get to school before Kyle get's pissed off, hey, maybe he'll lay off if I'm early."

He walked away and I slowly followed with my face a deep crimson and my voice failing me.

Kenneth's gentlemanly way of putting things would never fail to impress me.

The school was completely empty when we arrived, it was half six, I wasn't expecting to find anyone, not even the teachers. The main gate was open; the groundskeeper obviously woke up early.

Kenneth lit another cigarette and complained that he only had five left. He sat himself on the steps and focused on the rising smoke and the burning tip.

He turned to me, a morbid curiosity on his face, "who do you think snuffed it? Those gunshots, I mean."

I felt a shiver come over me, "I… uh, I don't know." He looked with the same desperation that had overcome him when he first raved to me of his 'immortality.'

"I guess that's the worst part of it," he took a long look at the cigarette and flung it to the snow covered road and it was snuffed out. "I think this is the only time I'm going to say this…" he stood and stepped out the last embers of the smoke. He then used his feet to bury it in snow, "God help us," he said, his voice monotone and flat.

A chill worse than the cold went through me.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Chapter 23, not much to say. Here it is.**

Chapter 23

Even before tutor, me and Kenneth learned of what the gunshots were. Even in whispers in the hall, we discovered the truth.

The parents of one Wendy Testaburger had been shot with a handgun; their daughter was gutted soon afterwards. There were many tears down the almost empty halls. The police had caught no suspects; a fallen tree had blocked the only road into her street, supposedly that had delayed the cops enough for the culprit to escape. The other excuse I heard was that it was but a fail in communication.

There was no exaggeration in the whispers; the death was too close to home for many people to wonder on the brutality of the kill.

When Kenneth heard the news, a look of shock overtook him.

"Shit… oh shit man," he muttered, he gave me an upset look, "I need to run off to find Stan, shit, he'll be devastated, sorry man-'

I gave him an uneasy look of understanding, " yeah, go on, he probably needs the support." And like that he had gone.

I found myself sickened at even the thought of someone I had actually talked to being… dead, just stone cold dead. It was strange, she hadn't been completely mean against me, of all the people, she was probably one of the least aggressive for all of my school life. I had a large respect for her, she had dedication and will. All that will didn't get her whichever job she wanted though, all it seemed to give was an early grave.

I felt very sick, my stomach had taken a trip to my throat and I had made my way outside in the empty, crisp lot.

The bell would go off in only fifteen minutes, and in the time that I absentmindedly tried to keep my mind off the idea of never seeing Wendy's strong face again. I nearly missed the bus as it turned the gate and parked outside the school.

From the windows, I could tell that it was near empty, only a few forms could be seen inside.

Not taking any chances, I quickly slipped inside the building and watched from the doors glazing.

Many of the people who came out were from out of South Park, as the high school was in the center of four separate towns, but one who emerged made me feel even sicker.

Eric came out with a smile just as vile as the one he had shown me a few days ago, of pure glee and satisfaction. He had certainly caught onto the news.

I quickly made my way to the tutor room before he could catch even a glimpse of me.

Damien was already seated in the tutor room, far off into the corner, looking bored although at my appearance he brightened a small amount.

"Where were you?" He asked.

"Just wondering, I got here early with Kenneth."

"I see, I'll guess that you've heard the news."

I looked down solemnly, "of Wendy?" I paused and sighed solemnly, "yes."

"They're holding an assembly at fourth period, probably going to announce something big."

"A curfew," I answered, he nodded in agreement.

"Makes sense, try and stop this before it gets out of hand."

Mr Yates entered and sat at his desk, looking bored.

The room was quiet everyone was mournful and quiet, out of respect or shock, I could not tell.

"I think it's already out of hand," I muttered, Eric's smile piercing my mind.

"I don't, it's what, four people? Now that everyone's paranoid there's more of a chance of the guy slipping up."

"And if it's a group? The Fanatics?'

He looked at me sternly, "it isn't The Fanatics, they were after me, dad, you and Kenny, why go after some little kid or… she was an honour student right?"

I just exhaled a long, drawn out breath and rubbed my eyes with my hand, moving my middle fingers clockwise around my closed lids, "yeah, yeah you make sense."

He sighed as well, "sorry, I'm just a bit on edge."

"We all are."

"I really hope it isn't The Fanatics," he said, a child's fear underneath in his speech.

"Don't worry; it was just me being stupid."

"For once, I hope you were being stupid."

First period was math and I found Stan was a wreck, he was red in the face and tear stains ran down his cheeks, his eyes were puffy and red, looking like sore wounds. He spent most of the class resting his hands in his arms. He was devastated to say the least.

Kenneth was as silent as a dead man, thinking to himself in a seemingly undead focus. It was nearly outstanding how he ignored the lesson and focused on the wall above the teacher, treading around his own mind as if he were stuck. Mentally sinking in a deep, thick wet mud.

Under the deep thought was a blanket of his always fake emotions, hiding his constant worry, I could guess that it was as powerful as a nuclear missile now that the murders had gotten worse.

No one was paying attention, so if I were not next to him he would have seemed like anyone else. Besides the law, there was no reason anyone from South Park, or even the neighboring towns would be coming to school.

At lunch, Stan had segregated himself to the furthest end of the room, silent and grieving.

I contemplated getting up and consoling him, to try and ease the emotional stress and anguish.

My thoughts were quickly interrupted by four, quick, rhythmic knocks at the door. When all eyes fell on it, all eyes saw Eric through the window, looking as happy as a kid on Christmas.

"Oh, not this asshole," Damien muttered.

Eric let himself in, moving with the force of a bodybuilder, and as menacing as a hyena. Behind his eyes I could see cackles, loud and mocking.

"A lovely day isn't it today?" He said, gleeful and sadistic.

"Fuck of fat ass!" Kyle shouted. "Where the fuck is the other two?'

"Not here, but let's get to the meat of the issue-"

Kenneth rose to his feet and glared him down. Eric was unmoved.

"If you don't leave now I will rip your balls off and shove them down your fucking throat." He said with a soft, angry voice.

"No. but what I was saying, how does it feel to have your whore dead, eh, stan? Because it's faaaaantastic for me." Stan was red in the face, closing his eyes in an attempt to ignore Eric. Everyone else had a similar glare. "A bitch is what she-"

I felt anger scourge through my body, as if travelling through my blood and evaporating it into fiery hatred. No one moved against him, just silently glaring. Staring into his eyes made my anger grow bigger, seeping through my skin. I felt a strange courage.

I shouted, "SHUT THE HELL UP," and rose from my seat to look him eye to eye. He was quite short, I finally realised, but that didn't really help with a manipulator.

The cackles in his eyes grew wide and loud.

"Pip? Pip!" The cackles finally escaped in an obnoxious display of ridicule. "Do you actually think that **you** can stand up to anyone?"

Kenneth snapped as well and marched up to him. Roughly, he grabbed onto Eric's jumper and glared piercing daggers into his eyes.

"Fuck off you son of a bitch!"

Eric only smiled.

Suddenly, Damien was at his shoulder, I hadn't even felt him move, in his eyes he had a cold, hard look of anger.

Kenneth quickly let go and took a step back.

"Ah, good, thanks for getting rid of the poor-" Eric was quickly interrupted by a fist slamming into his cheek. The loud smack of flesh being assaulted stunned everyone to silence. Damien was silent, Eric looked furious. His cheek had a large red splotch on it as if paint had been splashed on it.

"Listen," said Damien. "If you insult Phillip, or anyone here, I will do the same thing to you that you've done to Phillip for years. Do you understand?"

Eric recovered quickly.

"You bastard!" he rose to Damian's eye level, "I understand, and now it's not just the whore who's dead. Oh…. it's gonna be your little faggot, the kike, poor-boy **and** the hippie. Good job you shit. And I thought that you'd be cool, ya know, devil worshiper and all that-"

He was interrupted by another fist meeting his stomach. Winding him and sending him to the ground.

Worry was flickering over Damien after what Eric said; the others seemed too angry or shocked to care.

Eric coughed up saliva, "fine then… fine then! Devil worshiper, oh, devil worshiper. You. Are. Fucked." Quickly reosedshakeily, as if the ground were rumbeling below him and stumbled out the door, red in the face. His pride beaten.

Damien turned to me, "see, we are the kings of this world," he said gleefully and exhilarated.

I was just shocked and terrified.

"Shit man, thanks for that!" Said Kyle.

In response, Damien watched the door until Eric was out of sight. Once the last of his flesh had disappeared from his view, Damien spoke. "No problem… although of all the things I've had feelings about, that was not a good one." He turned to me once more and he suddenly laughed. "But we're kings right! Yeah!"

Kenneth seemed solemn and he was looking down at the ground, deep in his mind again.

"Th… Thank you," Stan muttered. "Be careful."

"I'll be fine," Damien said, but behind his calming look was the hint of doubt and worry.

I was silent. There was no need to talk.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: There is literally not anything I can say right now... Chapter 24, plot development and such.**

Chapter 24

Last period had been revoked in favour of the well-gossiped assembly.

All of the over one-thousand students had been brought from their classes and the gym (which had been converted into an assembly hall) made me feel as if I were stuck in an organised slaughterhouse. Even worse was that the Gym only had two doors to let air in, both were closed, seeming as tight as submarine airlocks stuck in the dark, unending depths of the sea. The few lights hanging from the ceiling were dim and glowed like dying fireflies.

We were set in rows, after rows of benches, but to accommodate everyone we were packed like worms in an angler's bucket, all uneasy and wriggling in anticipation and trepidation.

At the far end of the gym, underneath the basketball hoop, was a podium left unattended. Teachers were to the sides of the room, all were uninterested.

As I sat there, I quickly took notice to Eric, who was only a few benches away, he, like everyone else, had no space. His cheek was deeply bruised and he breathed long and hard, like a giant disturbed from its restful slumber. He had not told anyone of what Damien had done; he was one for personal revenge. I realised that I had probably failed my self-made promise to keep Damien safe; I would have panicked more if the heat were not so overwhelming.

Talking was high and in the large, hollow room, echoes increased every decibel tenfold. It was so loud that I could nearly hear ringing in my ears as if I were stuck next to a gunshot or the speakers to a death metal concert. How anyone could understand anything was a miracle.

Everyone else I recognised was quite far away and I was stuck next to two larger teenagers, both were as sweaty and uncomfortable as everyone else.

It was a very awkward position to be stuck in.

Not many people seemed to care of the assemblies intentions; only those in my grade and a few others were very distraught about the assembly or the death of Wendy. There were not a large amount of people in the school who actually lived in South Park, even though it was closest to the town. I could spot some girl, who I guessed was in grade 8, fondling the crotch of a boy of around the same age. Either she wasn't trying, and failing, to be inconspicuous in the dim lighting or wasn't trying at all. No one paid them mind, it was probably happening elsewhere in the hall anyways. What a respectful way to commemorate the death of a student and the repercussions of that.

The teen she was molesting raised his hand tentatively up her side and groped her breast. I frowned at their disrespect and lack of decency and turned my gaze to the podium, half-blocked by slicked and damp hair of a variety of colours, most being brown.

People kept talking loudly and a small percentage of others partook in their vulgar activities. The teachers did nothing but wait, uncaring, some just covered their ears and waited for the noise to die down.

In ten minutes the headmaster, Mr Speyer, call came from the back door, of which was hidden in a small corridor to the far left.

He was a man that seemed to once have been of strength, an angular jaw line and hard amber eyes that seemed fit for a soldier. Age had done its just dues though and those eyes had small bags, his probably once fresh skin was wrinkled, greyer than it once was and his hair, that may have once been an attractive blond, was as grey and thin as old ash.

Only a few people quieted.

He looked at the hall with only boredom. He lived miles away in the neighbouring town and it was well known that he only took the job because it paid well. He didn't know how to run a school, that was why it was in such poor repair.

A few taps on his microphone silenced a few others.

At the still loud noise, he furrowed his brows and tapped some more, _bum, bum, bum_ it went. Only three or four more paid attention.

His short temper reached its end and he grabbed the microphone roughly and squeezed it.

The speakers squealed loud and clear, echoing and echoing. As loud as bomb.

Everyone fell silent.

When he took of his hand, the ringing persisted and slowly died down over time, but even as he talked, it was still there in the back of my hearing.

He coughed once before he began speaking, his voice sounded robotic through the old speakers and was half disjointed, near unbearable. "So, as many of you know. Wendy Testaburger, an honourable and respected student, has died…"

Much of his speech was nothing but ramblings about how great of a person she was.

Eventually he had raved his way to the subject of the curfew.

"And because of this grievous loss…" He trailed off and pulled at his collar, he was just as sweaty and hot as everyone else. Most people had lost interest; many of the out of towners had gone to searching their phones 'indiscriminately' by hiding them in the pocket or continue whatever they were doing with their boyfriends and girlfriends. He continued, "The police are going to enforce a curfew from six A.M to Ten P.M. If you are caught in South Park at any time after ten you are probably going to just be taken home."

I sighed and felt that I wanted to join the collective groan but stayed silent. I was worried that the police were taking this seriously, and that meant it truly was a bad matter. Inside I had wanted it to be said that it was all some hoax, some sick game people had played. That was only a fantasy though, people were dead and the police were talking action. I felt my head pound with the realisation and the room felt even hotter, as if I were stuck above magma. My head burned and thumped like church bells and I felt pale and sick.

 _Ring…. Ring… Ring._

The church bells ceased and a new bell took its place, the ringing of the end of period, had it been an hour already?

The people around me got up and began leaving, I huddled myself in the seat and let them leave. My head pounded more and I felt paler, weaker. Very, very tired as well, I hadn't felt so tired in a long time.

The heat left slowly and the open doors didn't do much to let cold air in.

Wavering and dizzy I eventually tried to raise my body. Only to be stopped by a hand on my arm, following its trail led to the calm, monotone red-eyed look of Damien. He placed his other arm around my shoulder with mutters of "let's get you outside."

Not once before had I found the biting air so refreshing but that day had made it as wonderful as the elixir of ecstasy. Damien just stood at my side, loyally waiting until I would say that I was ok. He would have stayed there for hours; he was truly a great friend.

I loved him.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: And Chapter 25, halfway through the story by my notes, I'm surprised I even got this far.**

Chapter 25

The first day after the curfew I had been violently sick, the stress, the pressure of the recent murders and general life had taken its toll on me and I had been ill in bed. The next day I had gotten better enough to actual move and contribute to my own life, on that same day over fifteen families had left town, moving with relatives for some time. Surprisingly Kyle had not been with them but he had said that his mother was on edge. The curfew was well enforced and had I been more of an extrovert I would have probably seen more police cars.

Everyone was sure that there was going to be another murder though, the doors were locked, the shutters closed and shops were out of business until time got better. Not many broke the curfew law.

On that Sunday, I had been invited by Damien to have dinner around his house. When he asked me by walking straight to my house, he had an odd gleam in his eye, something strangely both mischievous and worried at the same time.

We seldom talked on the walk. Keeping an eye and an ear out for any more gunshots or even screams.

When we got to his house though, it was empty. Silent and dark in the shadows of the neighbouring offices. Lucas's car was nowhere in sight.

I finally talked. "Damien… uh, why is there… no one."

He sighed and unlocked the door. "I have to check something," he explained, "and I need to ask you something?"

I did not have an amazing feeling about his words. "What is it?"

"Could you keep watch for me? If anything goes wrong I'll take the blame!"

"What's this all about?"

Damien unlocked the door and brought me inside.

"I have a basement to this place, I didn't even know that I had it, I'm gonna have a look around it… I just need you to tell me when my dad parks and I can deal with the rest. Ok?" He looked at me softly, pleading.

I gave in fast.

"Sure, yeah, I'll do it."

Suddenly he smiled, "thanks Philip, seriously, I've been worrying about this for ages."

And with that he moved to the side of the stairs and gave a light push. The stairs were completely solid, or seemed to be at first glance, there was no outline of a handle so when he pushed and a chunk of the wall swung inwards, I was forced silent by the event. The size was big enough for a person to walk through but it was irregular and went with the boards it made it seem as if it were just a wall. It made me think of the secret doorways used in old 60's spy flicks.

 _'_ _What would Lucas need to hide so well?'_ I did not voice that.

Instead I asked, in a hushed whisper, "how did you find that?"

"I was walking downstairs yesterday, my footsteps were loud, from the open space below, and that they seemed to echo so I leaned on the wall and… well I nearly fell in! I think Dad must've forgotten to lock it, or we just haven't found it before or something," he explained and got out his phone, turned on the flashlight and moved inwards, swiftly being covered by the darkness behind.

Worry and panic set in fast and I slowly walked to the darkness, glancing backwards to the door in case Lucas suddenly arrived.

The doorway was strikingly black, as if it were just a solid wall of darkness taking place of the regular wall. It looked as if the shadows were crawling out the doorway and into the light. I got the mad thought to close the door, to lock my friend in but stop the darkness of whatever was down there. I decided against that, I wouldn't do that to my friend.

I leaned in and saw the piercing white beam of Damien's flashlight pierce the darkness like a holy weapon. He turned right down the long stairwell and the holy power was lost. I felt my heartbeat thump and thump; I could feel my blood through the veins in my neck. I felt gooseflesh on my arms and my throat was dry.

' _What's the worst that could be down there?_ ' I feebly reasoned with myself. Somehow, I knew that there was something menacing down in the dark basement. "What the hell!" Damien shouted, echoing up the stairwell and becoming quickly silent.

I burst into response and ran into the darkness, searching for a banister, quickly finding it and moving down the stairs. The basement was surprisingly deep, going down and down, ' _thirteen, fourteen, fifteen_ ' I counted. When I got to the ground, I counted twenty-seven.

There was a hallway to the right and Damian's flashlight was shining down, from my distance I could make out that he was in a larger room.

He turned and I was nearly blinded by the brightness.

"Damn, Phillip, are you ok?" He said, rushing up to my side.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, just fine. Is there a light switch anywhere?"

"I don't think there's a light to begin with!" He cried in astonishment, stepping to my side and shining the flashlight down the hall and it spread in a wide arc, showing only the start of a large room. I could not make out much in the darkness.

"What's down there? What made you shout?"I said, fearful of what was in the large room. The gooseflesh became more present and spots of sweat appeared.

He made a few steps forward, "I don't know what's down here but Dad has been doing some strange stuff."

"What do you mean? Satanist stuff?"

"I think so; I haven't seen this sort of stuff around him before."

I felt curiosity grab and pull like an ethereal claw, subconsciously urging me into the room.

"How long until Lucas gets back?"

Damien shone the light up the stairwell. "Not long, I'll take watch and you can have a look around if you want… no, what am I saying? I will take a few pictures ok? I don't want you getting in trouble, I set you up to this. Ok?"

I took another glance at the large room, the darkness was strangely alluring, as if I needed to explore it. I quickly got a hold of myself and quickly went upstairs, with a glance behind me I saw the flashlight move once more into the hallway and disappeared.

The outside seemed impossibly brighter for a brief moment afterwards. From the walls to even the carpet that had seemed slightly drab before.

No one was still outside and I stationed myself at the window and I kept getting memories of when I had been in the same spot, waiting for either Lucas or The Fanatics. A shiver went through me at the thought of the cult.

Ten minutes passed and my glances went from the driveway to the hidden basement door. Lucas still did not appear.

Twenty minutes and Damien still had not came up.

"ARE YOU OK?" I shouted.

"Yeah, give me a second?" Came the muffled response, even from afar it sounded loud; he must have sorely strained his voice so I could hear. ' _How deep is that room?_ ' I felt the urge to go down once more, but I kept it away.

Five more minutes passed and I saw the slight glimmer of sun on metal and red paint not too far down the road.

' _Damn!_ '

I sprinted to the basement door in four long steps.

I cried, "DAMIEN, HE'S HERE!"

Slowly I heard a response, faint and obviously it was furiously loud from so deep into the basement.

"Ok, close the door and make a distraction," is what I made out, although it was longer and probably more detailed.

Lucas was in the driveway now and quickly I opened the door and met him out there. I made sure to close the door behind me.

"Oh! Phillip, Damien said you were coming. Why are you in such a rush?" He said in surprise.

"Oh, uh… uh" I paused for a moment racking my mind for an excuse, any excuse. "No reason. Just… uh." He gave what he probably thought was a warm version of his smile. In my eyes, it did not seem warm, it seemed searching, thinking, cold and heartless with the foul intentions of a monster of legend. I thought he was silently praying me for information on what I had been up to.

Blood slowly crept to my face and the world was not a mountain town but a heat-filled boiling volcano of creeping burn.

"Damien's upstairs, getting something ready I think. I was just really… uh, really curious about your stand on something."

His smile did not falter, instead it grew a small bit and he looked closer at me, prying further. I realised something, his eyes looked a little off, at the ridge of his eyes was a black line.

He quickly moved backwards and kept his Cheshire impression.

"What is it on, _Phillip_?" He said it with a hint of anger.

I lied, "it's uh… on the murders. Who do you think is doing it… I'm trying to guess at who it could be." I felt my mouth run lightly, nearly stuttering at the end. I felt that that would have been a dead giveaway of any hidden meaning to the conversation.

Lucas's smile fell a small bit, in what I would guess is solemn.

"Sad news isn't it? I think it is just some madman, trust me, from a journalist's view, it's normally always just people you would never-"

The door behind suddenly opened.

"Hey Dad!" Damien said quickly, he sounded out of breath, haggard and tired. "How are you doing?"

I moved quickly and found him red in the face, his head glistening with sweat and his body slightly bent forward.

Lucas instantly burst into laughter.

"Getting ready were you?" He said as he laughed. He said to me "I can see why you wanted to get outside quickly!" He gave me a pat on the shoulder and I saw him glare slightly at Damien, I could almost feel Damien shudder. ' _What has he found?_ '

"Uh… Should we go upstairs?" I asked Damien.

He quickly said, "Yeah, let's go," and he grabbed me by the sleeve and we left Lucas to his laughing.

Damien was sitting on his bed, just flicking through pictures on his phone; his thumb moved left, he stared for a second, left again. He watched intently for five pictures until he realised that I was just standing in front of the closed door.

"Sit down. Have a look at this."

He showed me his phone and I saw a picture of a large table made of stone, engraved in the center was a goat's head with spiralling triangular runes on its ears, its eyes glared and seemed almost alive in its stony gaze, its snout was flat and it seemed crushed. I realised as I stared at the picture that there were two deep holes, thin ones in the places of the eyes pupils and larger ones for the nostrils. The edges of the table were darker than the rest.

"That was down there?"

Damien looked at the phone for a second, he seemed numb and unlike himself.

"Yeah," he slowly said. "That… that and a lot of other stuff. I… There was a book down there, which is why I took so long. It was." He stayed silent for a second and disbelief fell over his eyes for a second before he continued, "It was bound in… flesh, I think, old flesh, it smelled like… like rotten meat," he finished, his mind else ware.

He flipped the pictures a few times and he suddenly scowled. "Damn! I didn't take a picture of it… wait!" He turned the phone around again and this time it was of the book he had been talking about. The pages were yellowed and old, the same was of the writing, it was flowery and reminded me of some sixteenth century poet. It was obviously a continuation of a previous page as it said:

 _Hark! For when the great seer drinks from the youth, he shall have an image and the seer shall know that with which the master allows._

Underneath was an illustration of the same table that was in the previous photo.

"What else was down there?"

Damien shook his head, "not much, some strange masks and some pendants like the one I have, there were a bunch of empty shelves though. I think that its all just my dad's stuff from my previous houses, I've never gone into the basement so I don't know. It's just… that book!"

"You've never gone into any of your own basements!"

"I've never needed to," Damien argued. "We always stored our stuff in the attic or just storerooms. I always thought we just ignored the basements."

We were quiet for a long time after that, just digesting the news and realisation.

Finally I spoke, "why was it hidden? Do you think… do you think that you father might be-"

Damien looked at me sternly, "some murderer, no! The basement was probably just always hidden."

"I didn't mean that he was a murderer," I pleaded. "Maybe he was more of a… you know? More of a Satanist than either of us thought."

He gave me a raised brow, "that would normally mean he is a murder. Which he isn't! For Christ's sake he's my dad!" He stayed silent and shivered a small bit, "but that book, just… just…. Well, fuck, that book."

"Are you ok?"

Damien nodded, wearily, "Yeah… just, just tired."

"Why don't you sleep then, I'll wake you when you have to get dinner."

He shook his head, "no, no. I'll stay up, I'm not going back downstairs though. No, never."

I felt the strange urge to go down in his place; instead I sat at his side until he calmed down.

At dinner Lucas was calm and luckily unsuspecting. As I walked past the bottom of the stairs I saw that there was no obvious sign that it had ever been opened and I sighed with relief. He was not exceptionally menacing or angry, just widely grinning.

The rest of the day was calm and reasonable, I ate and talked with Damien some more about random nothings and Lucas drove me once more home. This time in complete, blissful silence.

The night though, was by far one of the worst of that week. I was tired but I could not sleep, I felt hot and ragged and dirty.

I found myself leaning out of my window and just enjoying the cold air, it was _so_ refreshing after weeks of fear and murder and everything in general.

Then I heard, very far away but echoing in the silence, the _bu-bu-bu_ of automatic gunfire, very powerful; and very heavy gunfire and I was staring into the distance for an entirely different reason.

' _Oh god,_ ' I thought, scared out of my mind. ' _What the… the Goddamned hell is happening now? What is happening now?_ '


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

I had never realised that I might have lived in a ghost apartment, when day came there was a lot of movement early in the morning, shuffling and hushed shouts as if yesterday's shooter would hear their shouts. For an hour this happened, cars left outside and it was quiet.

I felt alone.

When six A.M came and I stepped out of my flat, every footstep and _squeak_ of my leather shoes on the stone floor was loud and desolate. No one moved in their apartments. No one was in their apartments.

I felt isolated.

The stairs were unbearably empty, the same with the entrance, even the doors were louder and seeming emptier.

The streets were the worst. I made a step and my footstep seemingly echoed for miles and no one responded.

Unlike when the first murders happened, everyone hid and left the town silent. Now it was dead, the town was a rotting corpse.

I was alone. Alone in my own block.

' _Damien! Kenneth! Karen!_ ' I listed frantically in my own mind. I could go and see if Kenneth and his sister were ok first.

As I sprinted down the streets I didn't care if anyone saw me and judged. There was no one to watch and no one to judge. The streets were dead, the houses were dead. I wasn't in a ghost apartment or even a ghost block, I was in a ghost town.

South Park was dead.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 

Even the invisible barrier was dead, as I passed it I didn't realise that I was running passed trailers and ramshackle houses.

Kenneth's house was not dead though, it was loud and raucous with arguments and spiteful words. From a meter or two away I could hear the heavily slurred shouts, although most were beyond comprehension, the ones that I could understand were swears.

As he had before, Kenneth sat on the outside; Karen was sitting next to him, huddled into his side, somehow finding sleep.

The second I made myself present his eyes seemed to light up, fireworks of hope, doubt, and thought raced behind the thin veils of skin that covered his emerald orbs.

"Jesus fuck. Thank god you're here!" he said in a whisper that had as much urgency as if there was a bomb next to him.

Karen stirred slightly and he fell as silent as a stone idol. She did not wake; behind more loud voices raged in a war of vulgar vocabulary.

"Kyle's left town, Stan's following soon, not many are staying and… well, I can't leave, I have no money," he said solemnly and I walked up and sat down next to him, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, careful not to disturb Karen and merely said: "I really need a fucking smoke," and he parted his hand.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Besides get that smoke? No fucking clue, make sure Karen's safe, I guess. I'd try and hop town but… you know."

I could not remember for how long we sat there in silence, ignoring the screams from behind but eventually I said, "what was that last night?" and he stared down into the ground with grief.

"The mall was shot up." His stare turned to a glare, "people are missing and… and fuck, the cops have got no one. Hell! The cops have fucked off! Left us for fucking dead! Like… how the fuck!" Karen stirred once more and he silenced again.

' _Hundreds maybe,_ ' I thought. ' _Goddamn it._ '

"It's Cartman," said Kenneth suddenly but quietly, near to a whisper.

"How do you know?"

"I don't, I just think he's finally snapped. How I think it went: he was walking down the street, saw the kid was out there and attacked, that's what I think. Just spiralling from there. Why else would it be Wendy next, and why so brutal? Because he's a fucking nutcase, I'm sure."

I didn't say anything, it was a possibility, a very, very big possibility, he could worm tongue his way if he were caught in the mall, given he had enough time to chuck the gun and get far away from it. I remembered a book I once read where the villain's plan was to disguise as cops and spring out just after the massacre, just late to save the day. They were to leave shortly after; no one would have suspected a thing had the hero not stopped them. In this case, though, there was no hero, and many were left with quickly fatal bullet holes.

"Have you got your father's gun?" I asked quickly, getting to my feet.

"In the garage, still in the draw, you gonna get it?"

"Yeah," I muttered.

The bookcase had been moved but the door was closed, the inside was darker than it had ever seemed, there was no light beaming from the cracks and breaks in the fallen ceiling. I groped to the draw and yanked it open, the tens of un-clipped bullets rattled and banged against each other, the gun itself rested in the middle. Silent and waiting to be used.

When I picked it up into my hands, it felt like I was holding something _wrong_ something dirty and so unholy in its mechanism. It was very heavy, and my palm was lowered slightly when I first took it into my hand. Even though it felt wrong, it also felt powerful; I was holding a deadly weapon. Something _designed_ to kill someone, it didn't matter who, just _someone_. I felt my blood run cold at the thought.

Slowly I checked if the safety was on, there was no labelling but when I flicked the small switch down the side, it clicked, revealing a red colouring underneath. I could assume that red meant the safety was off and flicked it back up. The click sounded as bleak and hopeless as funeral bells.

Carefully I put it down the side of my trousers, making sure that the muzzle faced directly down, so if it accidentally went off there was more of the chance of my only injury being the burning of the barrel.

Just as carefully as I had done with the gun, I put as many of the spare rounds in my pockets as well as the two extra clips that were far at the back of the draw. They were filled to the brim, fifteen shots in each, forty-five bullets with all the clips, not including the spare rounds, at least Kenneth was prepared. There were still around twenty bullets in the draw when I felt they were beginning to become too over encumbering. Luckily, they didn't rattle too much when I walked and didn't bulge out of my trousers.

When I moved back to the outside I found Kenneth with his sister's head now resting lazily on his shoulder, she was awake but resting, he looked at me with the stern look of a man on death row.

"Have you got it?" he asked and I responded by patting my side. He got the message and guided Karen to sit up, her long, matted yet still elegant hair ruffling at the swift movement.

She turned to me with wide, bark-brown, innocent eyes and I felt my chest tighten at the thought of someone so young, only nine or ten, who had yet to realise the world, was stuck with the unseen threat of death looming above her. She had the innocence of someone much younger than she was and she had the fairness of a seven-year-old princess. Did she even understand the severity of the situation? No. no she did not.

"You're Pip, right?" she said with a large smile and a happy, chipper tone that pierced the gloomy atmosphere like a boiling burst of plasma to metal. I could see why Kenneth wanted to defend her so much.

"Yeah," I began, "yeah, I'm Pip."

Her grin grew wider, "Kenny's told me a lot about you!" I could see Kenneth chuckle behind her before smirking at me lewdly.

"We can keep what I tell you about Pip to ourselves, now come on," his expression turned back to seriousness as he gripped onto her shoulder, "what are we going to be doing?"

"Staying at my place, then I'll go check on Damien and Lucas," I explained, Kenneth nodded in response.

"What about Mom and Dad?" Karen asked. "We can't just leave them without telling, can we?"

The slightest hint of a scowl appeared on Kenneth's brow at the mention of his parents but nonetheless he squeezed his sister's shoulder reassuringly. "We cannot tell them this one time, just to keep you safe."

She nodded sadly before spontaneously bursting into a wide, almost holy white grin. For the first time in what felt like months, I felt hope awaken like a hibernating bear in my heart, large and powerful. I grinned back; she was so innocent, so pure. If I were some brilliant sin to Lucas then he would despise what Karen was, I felt the hope grow at that thought.

When we began walking I felt the hope begin seeping away, whoever was causing this, be it Eric or anyone else, had scared away almost everyone, even the police had left the streets, were the police even still in town? Had the bodies even been moved from the mall, or were they left to rot. And I didn't know if anyone was going to be sent in to investigate, it was a good idea that the killers had left with the hordes.

As I shared a glance with Kenneth, who was keeping a careful eye on his sister, we both came to the same decision. Whoever was killing was still in town, probably waiting to pick off anyone too stubborn to leave their town, there had to be people who would stay.

We moved as fast as we could through the empty streets, all which seemed like a hollow tree, with the look of life on the outside but empty and dead on the inside. The whole town was hollow, the same was for the buildings, and even the air seemed to blow lifelessly.

The apartment reminded me of a horror film, where every sound was enhanced and echoed to build tension, from my own footsteps to the drip of water from a bottle that had been left leaning over the railing of the stairway. Each drip from the slightly opened cap falling for miles before splashing on the ground far below, and echoing up as if the whole water bottle had been opened and tipped.

"That curfew really helped, didn't it?" Kenneth said as we moved off the stairwell to my floor and headed to my door.

"Yeah it really…" I trailed my voice and it turned to a sharp inhale of horror, my door was unlocked, the entire handle had been taken off by what seemed to be a powerful blast. Someone had broken into my home.

"What's wrong-" Kenneth began but he was interrupted by a heavy, powerful _cah-chink_ sound from inside my apartment. "GET TO THE FLOOR!" he screamed and I obeyed falling onto my stomach just as the top of my door was blown out by a shotgun blast. Splinters of wood and small bits of metal were sent flying across the hall, small bits of boiling wood and red hot metal landed on me, burning like a branding iron, but I stayed still. The blast echoed in my ears as if it were playing on repeat.

Karen screamed and huddled into a ball on the ground, I just led on the ground, paralyzed by fear and Kenneth, acting on instinct, rushed to my side, pulled up my shirt and took the .45 from my trousers.

His sudden movement shook me from my stupor and I clumsily scrambled out of the way of the door, mindless, I couldn't think. Kenneth did the same, although with much more composure, to the opposite side, so that he was closer to Karen.

"C'mon in fuckers!" jeered the voice of Trent Boyett from inside, each word was a dark javelin piercing my heart. "C'mon you fucks! _I did tell you didn't I_?" he shouted.

Karen was whimpering, I was terrified, Kenneth was furious. He flipped the safety and waited, crouched on one knee with the gun aimed at the door and his other hand on Karen's shoulder.

"Go back to the stairwell," I barely heard him whisper but Karen was too scared. He sighed and tried to make eye contact with me, but he saw my unending terror, he saw me crouched there, shivering in complete utter fear for my life. I wouldn't be surprised if he heard my pitiful thoughts of ' _why didn't I run? Why didn't I run?_ ' I was useless and that realisation brought an ounce of fear into Kenneth. He realised just how weak and useless I was and how it was the same for him, no matter his courage, we were facing a complete, unadulterated psychopath.

 _Cah-chink, bang!_ And the bottom half of the door had been blown out, splinters and wood flew, as if to escape the powerful weapon. I shrieked and gasped as the bang echoed, so, so close by. Why was I so pathetic?

Before Trent could pump the weapon once more Kenneth rose to his feet and took a tentative step forward and placed his hand flat onto the door to push it inwards.

 _Cah-chink!_ And he quickly pulled his arm backwards, but no shot exploded.

"C'mon, I know you're still alive, c'mon in. COME ON IN YOU DISGUSTING FUCKERS!" then the shot exploded, leaving the door on its last hinge. I could almost feel the bullet echo solely in my mind and trained on me. I tried to squeeze my eyes shut and ignore it, to try and wish it away as if I were in some fairytale, but I was stuck in my apartment, with a madman trying to kill me, Kenneth, and then Karen.

I looked to the girl and saw her stuck with fear, tears streaming down her pale, fright-filled face and felt tears spring at my own eyes, ' _I'm going to die! I'm going to die!_ '

Kenneth then, with much more bravery than I had, he slowly moved, and pushed the door open. He stood there for a second, just aiming the gun forward. He was about to say something but his words were stopped by the evil _cah-chink!_ And he was set off, firing once. The entire hall being set off in a faint light from the barrels explosion.

There was a heavy gasp and then a weighted thud. I saw Kenneth aim the gun down and, with a massively shivering arm that wavered like a branch in a rainstorm, he emptied the clip into what I guessed was the now corpse of Trent. Fourteen loud banging explosions, now like a fist on wood, bringing repressed memories of my childhood that I tried to keep deep in my mind.

He stayed still for a second horror struck his face and he wretched, then ran out of the room, sprinting to the stairwell and leaned over the railing, heaving but not puking yet. He had dropped the gun in my apartment.

I saw Karen move to Kenneth's side; her movement was slow and scared. I just kept still, trying to stay in the real world but I felt the overwhelming temptation to think of a better future, where me Damien, Kenneth Stan and Kyle were all friends and I wasn't stuck with a dead man in my apartment and Kenneth nearly vomiting over the railing.

Leaving them be, I felt myself stand up and begin walking into my apartment, steeling myself for whatever sight was inside. I had to get the gun; I had to make sure we were not completely defenceless. I do not know if it _was_ just a want for safety or the morbid curiosity to see what had befallen Trent but I entered the hall.

The first things I saw were blood splatters at the far end of the hall and the half-broken door that held on by one hinge like it was gripping for safety. I trailed my eyes down and saw the body of Trent lying face down on the ground with the shotgun trapped underneath him. Either most of Kenneth's bullets had hit his chest or the ground around him, the crimson fluid seeped in a large pool underneath him. His head though, was the most gruesome wound, a large chunk of his skull was missing, fragments, brain matter and the remains of his eye stepped through the large crack. I didn't retch though, I just was stuck in disbelief, I took a step forwards and moved almost mindlessly until I was in the light of my living room.

"Well, certainly a nasty sight isn't it? Eh Pip?" Said a voice inside the room. It was a nasally voice like a weasel, with the heartlessness of a bloodsucking, soulless vampire.

When I turned my mindlessness was broken as I saw Eric, sitting in my living room on my reading chair, dressed in a full pinstripe suit, white gloves and a red tie, he had dressed himself for the occasion, all except the same puffball hat, as some sort of memento to the past. He held a revolver, aimed at my chest.

"Never knew the poor boy had it in him… though," he aimed his gun down at the floor and I saw the .45 on the ground nearly at my feet. "He should look where he is throwing."

I could hear Kenneth vomiting, heedless of my predicament.

' _Oh no. Why? Why me? Why now?_ '

I took a step to my left but he turned his revolver back at me.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he began, like a disappointed mother, "you know, I've been waiting for this, you really _piss me off_. Did you know that? That's why I want you to be my first."

I began in a long stutter, "s-s-so it was Trent who's done everything... e-e-everything else? All the other killings?" I said, trying to distract him so I could either get help. Any help, anyone to stop me from dying.

Eric shrugged his shoulders, but kept the gun trained on me.

"Hell if I know, I just gave him this idea before the mall was shot up, shame, wasn't it?" He sounded like this was only small talk to him.

I made a run to the left, tripping over my own brashness and I landed in a small crawl from Trent. Eric shot a second too late and his bullet hit the wall.

I crawled top the corpse, feeling sickened by the gore and blood beneath my fingers and the sight of his half-missing head. When I was closer, I realised that I could see some of the bone of his skull protruding from the remnants of his head, I realised why Kenneth was vomiting. It was so horrible. I hardly registered Eric's shout of "You fucker!" over my own internal horror.

I tried to keep my mind as blank as possible as I franticly wrestled the gun from his loose grip and heavy body. With a strong heave, I pulled it from under him and cocked the weapon, in a heavy _cah-chink_ that took a large amount of my strength. I didn't even know if I would ever get the chance to use it but I tried to do it as if it would scare Eric off.

When I turned around, I was stuck as still as stone when I saw the barrel of the revolver between my eyes. He was grinning; a disturbed grin that I knew was of pure madness.

He cocked the gun and leaned down, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"I've always wanted to see what this is like," he whispered perversely.

The shotgun was useless; I would never be able to shoot fast enough, if I had the courage to do it at all.

Then Kenneth entered the doorway, with an almost drunken stumble, placing his hand on the wall to support him and wiping mile away with his other. He fumbled forward, trying his best to keep focus on Eric; his loud clattering movements stole Eric's attention.

In the second that he was distracted, I pushed the muzzle of the shotgun against his stomach and squeezed my eyes to a close. Silently wishing for forgiveness, I pulled the trigger.

It lurched backward and the muzzle brought forth a ringing explosion that went flying into Eric's well dressed stomach. As powerful as a giant's punch.

As if it was a heavy hand on my arms, the shotgun's kickback sent me falling backwards, leading me onto the still bleeding body of Trent. I felt the crimson liquid seep into my hair and his brain-matter splayed head stained my shirt.

Eric fell in the opposite direction; I felt his own blood spray on my face, almost like a splash of some dirty water, just before he fell to the ground with a heavy, forgotten crumple of fat and flesh to wood. He was limp and dead.

I dared to open my eyes, light creped through the cracks and Kenneth leaned above me, looking down at my bloody, crimson dyed figure with sadness and heavy guilt.

"I...I-I'm going to go get Karen and take her to your room to sleep, is that ok?" he asked softly but shaken, in an imitation of a mother.

I just slowly nodded, rising so that I was sitting up, my clothes were soaked red and it sunk to touch me as if Trent was trying to terrify me once more from beyond the recent grave.

He sighed, "go…. G-go, go and get a shower and change and… shit, fuck! Just… check on Damien, make sure he is ok. I'll… I'll take care of…" a look of disgust passed over him, "I'll take care of these two. Ok... O-ok?" it was more of a statement then a question.

I could do nothing but nod, and turn to my bathroom. Throwing the shotgun as far away from me, I entered the white porcelain room.

A scream raised itself to my throat but I suppressed it, I had to stay strong until I made sure Damien was ok. I couldn't help but fear for his safety.

Behind I could hear Kenneth muter repeated curse after curse to the air, to the bodies, to the world itself.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: And Chapter 28, the end of part 2, and onto part 3.**

 **Also, as a mention to all the people that have kindly commented on this story... well, all I can say is thank you for your kind words.**

Chapter 28

I was showered quickly, I couldn't enjoy it, I was under the impression that joy itself had been sucked from the world like oxygen in the vacuum of space.

Murder. I had committed cold blooded, complete and utter murder. _Another human being was dead because of me_. And what sent an eerie macabre feeling about me was that I didn't focus on that fact, I could hardly keep my mind off of Damien, if he was safe, if he was unharmed. Eric did not matter, Trent did not matter even Kenneth and Karen had slipped my mind, I was too focused on Damien.

As promptly as an executive on a tight schedule, I left the bathroom with naught but a towel around my waist; I found that the two bodies had been dragged away. A trail of blood led out of my front door, which was as closed as it could get while not having a significant portion of its framework. It must have been horrible for Kenneth to do; I made a mental note to thank him.

I realised how utterly lifeless and downright uncaring I was acting and the felling to scream like a lunatic returned. I suppressed it as well as I could, only a grumble escaped my lips.

I could hear Kenneth in my room, the door was open, he was consoling Karen, speaking softly to keep her own mind and his from the massacre. I was simply glad that she had not seen the blood, the brain matter, the _death_ herself, she was lucky as all hell. I hardly noticed tears at my eyes. It was all getting to me, far too quickly for my liking, I had make sure Damien was ok first.

Just next to the bathroom door was a pile of folded clothes, my usual attire and a hoodie, another thing to thank Kenneth for. I left him to whisper his comfort words to Karen, dried myself and got dressed in the living room.

Hidden between my trousers and shirt was the .45, seeming unreal in my hands. It was what had killed Trent, blew a hole in his head and many in his chest, and it seemed like a toy to hold. Suddenly disgusted, I threw it onto my sofa. I had had enough of guns and death, I just wanted to make sure if Damien was ok, and then sleep. Sleep for days if I had to.

Trent and Eric were already dead, why would I need a gun anyway?

The shotgun was on the far side of the living room, resting against my bookshelf, the revolver was at its stock. I felt a pang of fear at how many weapons I had came to collect. I wanted to throw them out the window and dispose of them, so I could repress the memories.

' _Why the hell did this have to happen?_ ' I bitterly asked myself. But I knew the answer, because Trent or Eric or whoever it was wanted a thrill, or were just plain mad.

Frowning at my own answer, I gave a brief knock on my bedroom, told him Kenneth that I was off, and like that I left.

To the right of the door was where the blood trail led and at the far end of the hall was the two bodies, wrapped in sheets that were once white, now stained red. They were completely still, lying side-by-side but not as ill-fated partners in crime, only as partners in death.

' _Had Eric even killed anyone?_ ' I thought over that idea for a second, he wanted me to be his 'first' that meant that he had never done it before. Perhaps he had a history of killing cats and dogs, I would have been the first human, I finally figured out that not much was even known about Eric. Was he just a disturbed boy, angry at the world and out for revenge or had the jabs of his mother's sex habits sent him into a depression that spiralled so far as to make him so bloodthirsty? ' _Either way,_ ' I concluded, ' _he's dead now… it can't be helped. It can't be helped, it can't be helped!_ ' I wanted to shout, I did not. I would not.

It was not the same for Trent, in those first shotgun blasts he had proved that he was an unhinged psychopath; he had to have done it before.

Standing at their sides had shocked me out of my thoughts, I couldn't even remember taking the first step. Both were completely covered in the sheets, head to toe, or in the case of Trent, the fragments of his head. I could make out where they had been fatally wounded by the deeper drabs of red on the white sheets, dotted on the white like a morbid painting.

Tears stung at my eyes as I looked at the covered chest of Eric where the metalik deathly pellets had ended him but I quickly wiped them away. There was nothing I could have done, they were going to kill Kenneth and me; and then who would have known what they would have done to Karen? I feared with Trent at the forefront that rape might have even been an option for him. Even so, I felt myself fall to my knees and hold his cloth covered hand; it was cold, feeling-less and soft.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, pulling the hand to my chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" Before I could cry though, I gently placed the covered hand onto his chest, turned around, and left down the hall, in anger at myself, then down the stairs and out of the apartment.

The apartment complex was definitely empty, hardly anyone lived there before and anyone else would have shown himself or herself.

Through my walking, I wondered why, In over a month, had I not even gotten Damien's phone number, or even added him on any social media.

Why did I have to be a complete idiot at the worst possible time?

With a sigh and a trudge, I continued my journey.

The wind had started up again, a bitter pierce of a thousand throwing daggers that I promptly ignored. I had hardly registered the quick fall of snow on my cheeks and body. I was hardly registering anything, my mind was numb, my entire body was numb, I would only focus on getting to Damien, Kenneth was safe and all I had to do was ensure Damien was as well. All Damien and Damien was on my mind.

Soon the town would be covered in a white blanket that no one would clear. Would South Park be buried and ignored? Would it be forgotten and left to the cold?

Suddenly darkness came and the light was grey, the mountain loomed above and when I looked up, I saw that the sun was trapped behind it, falling to darkness. The great mountain, with its deadly peak and its hard, jagged stone edges that loomed overhead like a dark monument to years far gone to the past, many miles away but it had the illusion of being right in front of you, judging from above.

Throughout my walk, I felt it above, leaning as if it were alive to swoop and grab me in hard, rocky mouth.

I walked as fast as I could and arrived as fast as I could, Damian's house was not empty, the upstairs window was glowing with yellow light. Damien sat at the window, we registered each other quickly, our eyes locked and I felt as if I had gone back a month and were looking at him for the first time. Oh, how I wished I could have gone back then and not had to deal with my problems.

He quickly left the window and in a second the door was ripped open, the house behind him was pitch black. He had a wide smile and he ran out, suddenly hugging me.

"Jesus Christ thank god you're ok!" He muttered, "Dad hasn't came back for hours and you have no idea how worried I was for you. It's been so quiet." He let me go, "let's get you inside, ok?" I just complied.

We were in his bedroom fast, sitting on his large bed, the bright table lamp as brilliant as a star. I was finally comfortable, I felt safe close to Damien, safer than I had in hours.

"What happened? What's going on?" he suddenly asked, his crimson orbs wide and wondering. The recent grim events made me see those eyes as unknowing, almost childish, but I knew better, Damien was strong and world-weary.

"The mall was... It was shot up," I said at first, trying hard to keep my voice still. "Then everyone left and it was all quiet you… well, you know that," he nodded in understanding, eyeing with concern as my voice stuttered and haggard breath became prominent. Trying to stay on top of things, I continued my story, "then I went to get Kenneth and sister, then… then we went back to my apartment and then Trent, then Eric and… and. Then… then," I felt tears brim at my eyes and I let my scream come out, but not loud and furious but as a weak sob. It was a great catalyst though.

I do not know for how long I did cry but hours seemed to pass as I buried my head in Damien's shoulder, weeping like a child. Losing air as I tried to breathe more, only to exhale it in pathetic whimpers and cries, his shoulder must have seemed like a cup had been poured on it.

In a second, when I had slightly recovered, he gripped onto my chin and gently moved my head so that I was staring into his hypnotic, brilliant eyes.

Slowly he stroked my cheek with his thumb, "it's gonna be fine Phillip, ok. It's gonna be fine." And like that, as if he had seen a spark of acceptance in my eyes, he moved his lips so that they pressed against mine and I could not move. I didn't want to move, I didn't have the energy.

When he released his lips he just looked at my own dull blue orbs, but his eyes spoke volumes, "I love you Phillip" is what they said, and then tentatively kissed me once more, I only complied, wishing comfort and not questioning why.

We made love that night, pleasurable, beautiful fantastic love and I slept peacefully, and finally somewhat happy, but I knew that something worse waited. Something worse than Eric, worse than Trent, worse than anything I had ever thought of. Even though I slept peacefully, a nightmare was just on the borders, waiting to invade.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: As a note, if you haven't seen my previous post in this (speaking of guest reviewer) I'd suggest you have a look at it, it's basically a thank you for giving me criticism, I will also echo this here, thank you for your opinion, I agree with what you put, an... well, I'd suggest you take a look at the previous upload. And chapter 29, the beginning of Part 3 - The Search for the Masters Son.**

 **(** update as of 04/06/16) **I have found that reading throuh my most recent uploads, that they are sloppy and just in general poor storytelling, so to rectify this I am going to be editing my first draft heavily until it has reached a margin of quality that I actually expect of myself and my content. Thank you for reading this far, I'll probably upload in a month or so.**

Chapter 29

I awoke with my head against Damian's bare chest, his arm wrapped around my waist. I remembered what had happened last night, and cringed as memories flashed back. I had made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I had embraced the 'glorious sin' that Lucas proclaimed me to have, and it was awful.

When Damien had even come to like me? I did not know. That was something that confused me when I woke. There had been no signs, no indications, yet we had just had sex only some hour previous. Was it just a thing to calm me down? I paused my racing mind to a grinding halt to try to rationalise what had happened. Was it to calm himself down? I had no idea what he had been doing before I even got there, and the suddenness of that night speared light into my thinking. That had not been an act to calm me down, but it was something for Damien's own internal affairs. I would have been angry with him if I were not in such an awkward position.

At the thought, I became uncomfortable. I did not love Damien in that sense, he was my best friend, undoubtedly, but anything above that was a horrifying thought. He was no lover yet we made love. It was awkward and odd to remember, at the time it was pleasurable, but in retrospect I found it appalling, something I would hate to experience again. Especially with Damien of all people.

It was primal, I realised, something that had just happened in the spur of the moment, he did not love me in that sense as well. He could not have, it was a thing of the moment, and it was nothing less.

Damien suddenly moved his other arm to my hair and began stroking it. It felt wrong, at least for me, he seemed pleased enough but I felt like his hands were dirty to be caressing my scalp. When I looked up, I saw him smiling absentmindedly, his crimson irises going off into some other dimension. He still had no idea of the horrors that I had witnessed. I was so glad of that, I just allowed myself to think on nothing, and I tried to ignore his movements.

"I really love you Phillip," he admitted, lazily placing one hand over my chest, the hand felt as cold as metal. "Ever since I saw you outside my window I felt something for you, last night I... I knew. I just knew it." His words were tired and he wasn't thinking straight, give it a couple of hours and he'd realise his mistake, my mistake, and then we'd be in question of our friendship. With an upset sigh, I figured that the night was probably the thing that snapped our friendship like a flimsy twig. A thing that was both our faults. I couldn't be bothered to shed tears.

"I know," I simply replied, finally gaining the energy to raise to look him right in the eyes. He seemed shocked at my monotone voice and the absolute lack of care in my gaze.

Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed me again, rough and with the passion of an artist painting their magnum opus. I could feel his crotch against my thigh and before it escalate any further I detached myself from him. Quickly and almost mechanically I got out of bed and began dressing myself, stiffly.

"Are you ok?" he asked with worry.

"I need to get dressed and check on Kenneth and Karen," I explained and he nodded, smiling at me before falling back into his pillows.

He was back to sleep by the time I had redressed, looking peaceful and calm almost as 'sinless' as I had guessed Karen was. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of Kenneth and Karen; would she be fine after hearing and maybe even seeing the gunfight? Why had I just ran off gallivanting to Damien when my own actions could have traumatised a child? I couldn't think of enough synonyms for the word fool to call myself.

I wondered what would Damien do if he learnt of it? What did it matter, the last night was the catalyst of destruction; I may as well have just sat down and accepted everything.

My eyes turned to the window and I saw that the entire road had been covered in a blanket of white. I didn't know what else to expect, that everyone would return when Eric and Trent were dead? That was a stupid thought.

Lucas's car was also not in the driveway, and I finally questioned where he was. Perhaps he had gone out to look for Mark, which would make sense, it's not like he would just abandon Damien, he was not like that. No matter how much he scared me it didn't mean he would leave his own son in a dead town.

I left Damien alone to think over his and my mistakes, I'd question if we would stay friends, but sorting out all the more dire problems would come now, my sexual liaisons could come later. Looking unkempt and ruffled, I walked back, when I got into the apartment Kenneth would joke at me and even though it wouldn't be immediate, people would shift back into town and everything would be better. The streets would no longer be dead and hopefully things would all get at least a bit better.

In my head the constant banging rejection to it all broke through, it wasn't going to get better, not for a very long time. I still had the feeling that the nightmare wasn't over, it was far from over and my relief of Damian had only distracted me for a small bit from the inevitable truth. The truth that the nightmare was taking a new stage. Trent would have never been able to kill so many in the mall, no matter who he was, he was still a teenager, anyone larger and stronger would have stopped him quickly. It was someone more experienced who could do that, not Trent. If my constant reading and needless learning could teach me one thing, it was _that fact_ that the nightmare was never finished until every last detail had been picked out, or every suspect was done with.

Suddenly, as I was in the mid point from Damien's house to my apartment, I heard the sound of squealing tires and the grind of heavy wheels on snow.

My paranoia took control and I moved to the side of the nearest building.

The squealing came faster and closer before I nearly missed a white Ford van burst down the road and drift to a turn as if the driver were a Formula 1 driver.

I only caught a glimpse of the driver as he drove down, and in that glimpse I saw dirty blond hair and a green jacket.

My run back to the apartment was as quick as I could make it.

The entrance to the complex had been smashed open, shards as small as grains of sand or long enough to be a blade littering the ground. The actual locking mechanism had been taken out and ripped out; the remains of it had been tossed away.

"Oh… Oh shit," I muttered for the first time in memory.

When I reached my floor, I found that my front door had been completely taken down and was knocked on the floor. The bodies of Eric and Trent were left undisturbed.

I didn't want to go into my apartment, I felt the urge to turn and run, to go back to Damien and forget my problems, maybe even forget Kenneth and Karen. But Kenneth was my friend, and if he or Karen were injured or dead, I would need to see or have it ruin me.

The main hallway was almost frighteningly dark, even though it had the same lighting; it seemed almost eerie and ominous. The coat rack had been toppled to the ground and the two coats that hung were splayed on the ground, flat and splayed like dead men.

"Kenneth!" I called out, only to be responded with complete, dead silence.

Fear gripped my heart and gooseflesh prickled on my skin, each possible scenario that I thought of was more gruesome and horrible than the last.

I made a mad dash for my bedroom but it seemed as if my own footsteps were heavy, almost encapsulated in an icy terror that spread through my body. I slammed the door inwards with a force that I didn't even know I would ever possess.

The room was completely demolished, my bedside table had been smashed inwards, the contents were sprawled across the floor. Blood splatter across the floor.

"Oh no, no., no," I started slowly before elevating my voice to a scream, "KENNETH, KAREN-"

"P-...Pip," said a small whimpering voice that I couldn't pinpoint.

"Karen! Where are you?"

"The… The wardrobe."

I had never seen a child so shaken; she was deathly pale and curled into a ball, when I tried to hug her she just stayed still.

"They took him," she explained with many stutters and whimpers, "those people, they… Kenny told me to hide in here and I did and in the crack I could see them, that one man."

"One man?"

"Kenny knew him… I think he did, but... h-he shouted a lot at him... Is my brother going to be ok?"

I decided to lie, "I think so, I'm going to see if I can get help. But what did this man look like?"

"He had white hair," was all she said and I felt my heart sink to despair.

"Damien!" I shouted, and I burst to my feet. "Stay hidden, I'll… I'll come back to get you I'll… he'll be fine."

When I had safely hidden her back in the wardrobe, which was the safest place I could think of, I quickly grabbed the handgun from the living room and the clips from my discarded clothes. I tried my hardest to ignore the blood.

For the second time I found myself standing over Eric's body and sank down to my knees with tears streaming down my cheeks and sobs and inhales stopping my speech. I couldn't even word my apologies I was so sad, scared and fed up.

I wasn't apologising to Eric though, I was trying to apologise to Kenny and Damien, I would never be able to save them, I would always be to slow. I didn't even think I could kill again, Eric had already been far too much for my own self conscious, any more and I thought I would have gone crazy.

With a long, drawn out sigh I released the last of my tears, wiped them with the back of my sleeve and gripped the handgun tight in my hand. I had to at least try to save Damien and Kenneth; I owed it to them for giving me the greatest glimmer of happiness I had felt in years, and to try and make up for last night's many mistakes.

I had truly never ran so fast in my life, I had never felt winds fly like the lashes of whips to my face and have the sun beat down like a pounding fist on my sweating, exhausted body. I did not halt in my run though, no matter when I stumbled over cracks in the ground or knocked over garbage cans that clanged against my foot, I did not stop my run, not until I reached Damien's road.

My echoing steps of leather on concrete ended with two last long steps before I nearly doubled over with pain, I gripped onto my knees and tried to get oxygen back into my body. I felt as if I would fall over and as if my head had been set on fire.

The world in front of me twisted and turned around like the swirling of water in an unplugged sink; I walked and stumbled foreword, nearly landing flat on my face. I _had_ to get to Damien and Kenneth I _had_ to save them. For once in my life, I would have to actually defend someone else, and that thought terrified me to the core. One mistake and my friends were dead, one mistake and I would be dead.

His front door soon confronted me, with two vehicles in the driveway, Lucas's red Citron and the white Ford van that I had learnt to fear so much. The house was no longer shadowed by the nearby offices, it had now cast its own shadow over me, a shadow that was much more powerful than the office's ones could ever dream of. The shadow itself felt demonic.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Chapter 30, hopefully a return to form, as of now my plan of the story is at it's finishing stages and I am on the second half near final quarter of drafting. If anyone finds anything odd about it so far or have any gripes, please tell. Thank you - Xkia.**

Chapter 30

An oak door had never given me fear, in all of my short life I had never been faced with a red painted door and feared for my life. The lights were off, all of them; it was as if I was staring at a dead house, as if the ghostliness of the town had swallowed it like an invisible fog.

That was not the case and I opened the door swiftly, it held no resistance, caved inwards quickly, and banged against the opposing wall. No one in the house cried out at my suddenness. Even though I was shaking and half paralyzed with fear, I tried to keep a cool head, if I could handle chase after chase from Trent and Eric, I could keep a cool head in this situation. If I could kill Eric, no matter how appalled I was by the notion, I could face madness in the eyes and do it again, for Damien and Kenneth's sake.

The room was mostly dark, the hallway's rug was askew and muddy footsteps trampled to the open door to the basement, a faint, low glow like the starting of an evil fire tried to claw out of the basement and passed the oddly shaped door. Deep, deep down in the belly of the earth I could hear dark murmurs and echoes, reverberating from the upwards walls of the stairway into Lucas's demonic chamber.

"He's actually a psychopath," I finally mumbled to myself, felling realisation and sanity tug itself away from me. The whole scenario was something I couldn't focus on, as if I were trying to see a puzzle made of Euclidian geometry, something so _impossible. Impossible_ yet real at the same time. To keep my mind from wandering I just paid attention to the fact that Damien and Kenneth were in danger, some insane Satanist cult or if it just Lucas and the blond man in their basement didn't matter, it didn't matter at all, it was my friends, my only actual friends. The only people I really cared about.

I physical shook my head, somehow believing that would clear my mind. Then I tried to be as quiet as I could when I moved down the steps.

The stone had been lit by torches, hung on sconces from the fifth step down, looking like the cliché decorations of a gothic film or book like _Dracula_. Even the walls, I realised, were in fact made of cobblestone, Lucas had actually dug deeper into the walls to accommodate for the slimy looking replacements to be set in.

The murmurs grew louder and I could make out words in them, although they were of a different dialect, ancient Babylonian or perhaps something as equally cliché like Latin or Egyptian, I could not tell and like with many things I did not care in the slightest. I cared of nothing as I descended those steps, nothing but the two captives.

I seemed to reach the end much faster than I thought I would have, and it was not hard to miss the bright glow of the room to my left, hundreds, near to thousands of candles and torches had been lit along the floor, walls and any available shelf space.

It would have been hard for a half-blind man to miss the scene inside. Damien and Kenneth lay strapped to the stone table in the center of the room. Rope blinded their legs, arms and heads; there was cloth in both of their mouths. They led staring upwards. Surrounding them were about three men all in bright red robes, at the head of the table was Lucas in black robes with violet engravings of goats heads and inverted pentagrams. They were all chanting with their heads bowed and daggers in their hands; even though I could not make out their words, I could hear a dark, evil rhythm to their demonic chants.

I laughed; I could not help but laugh, doubling over in utter glee. It was comical, so god damned comical that it horrified me to the point of laughter, they were so... _influenced_. They looked like they had gotten their ideas out of ' _how to be a Satanist for dummies_ '. I was taking the situation far less seriously then I should have been.

Lucas's head shot up, his eyes wide and no longer crimson; they were now a wide, mad bright blue. His untied, greasy white hear ruffled at the movement and settled in a half discord over his face and shoulders, he was smialing unlike any smile before. He looked as if he was truly happy in the most disgusting way. The others also raised their heads and recoiled in shock at my intrusion, several held their daggers tighter. My laughter stopped, and I thinned my look.

"Ah Phillip!" he said in glee. "The bringer of sin has arrived, my sons!" he exclaimed and the followers all relaxed some. Damien and Kenneth both raised their heads to me, and in the moment that we shared eye contact, I saw hope in Damien, and hopelessness in Kenneth.

The one to Lucas's right took off his hood, showing the blond man who had been watching me in the ford. "Seer, you were correct. Then the time is really at hand!" he sounded like a snake. I nearly laughed at the almost rehearsed sound of all of their speech.

Slowly I aimed the gun up and focused on Lucas's chest. His followers held onto their daggers once more and seemed prepared to do anything to save him; Lucas himself was completely fine with the threat of a gunshot. I felt that he was looking inside me, into my very soul and could see my fear as if it were some infrared aura.

I held back as many stutters and displays of weakness as I could, and I was serious again.

"Just... Just let me and Damian and Kenneth and everyone go, ok? Just let us go... please." I pleaded.

Lucas wiped the hair from his eyes before speaking himself, "well then, you want me to let your friend and my son go?" he began calmly. "Fine then."

The followers all gasped in surprise, "Seer, but we have gotten so far!" the blond man said.

Lucas raised a hand and rested it on the man's head, seeming to calm him with his very touch. "Calm James, it is all part of the Masters plan, he wishes for entertainment, and to spill the blood of the bringer of sin, with the immortal and the son will only bring further power to us and him." He stayed silent and let the words sink into everyone. "BUT!" he shouted before anyone could move, the followers stayed as still as dogs. "We must wait for the next moon to pass, it must be under it! The master says so, so that the vile heathen above can see his world fall!" he ripped his hand from James's head and brought them to his side with a disturbed elegance, like a malformed dancer. "Let the son and the immortal go, the Master is to test us when they stand a chance. We must be true servants."

Either he was truly under the influence of some demon, madness, or truly under the influence of the .45. He was the first to cut the binds from Damien's hands, with a swift, elegant stroke he ran the edge of a kitchen knife over the rope, he cut just deep enough to leave a small scratch on Damien's arm. When the second binding was severed, all of Lucas's followers took a step backwards, leaving a path for Damien to follow.

Speechless, Damien moved to my side, and stayed silent, on my simple request, he turned and sprinted up the stairs, the cult's eight eyes watched him until he was out of view.

Kenneth's unbinding was much less elegant; Lucas roughly cut the rope and heaved him to his feet. In response Kenneth shoved him away and ran to my side, he took the gun from my limp hands, turned, and shot the nearest man in red.

Blood burst from the swift puncture in his chest and he fell on his back without breath.

Kenneth turned and sprinted up the stairs, I followed suit. In a second I heard the other two cultists ramble and shout in anger, I could hear fumbling and crashing and when me and Kenneth were at the top, other people were following up the stairs. Lucas shouted commands of "Don't follow, it's the masters wish!" but whoever was behind us did not listen.

When we reached the top, Kenneth turned, aimed once more and fired. The bullet didn't hit the target though as the tell-tale sound of ricochet informed us, there was only one of the two men in red behind us, and he dropped to the floor as if gravity had doubled. We made our way to ground level without further interruption.

Damien sat on the floor outside, heedless of the snow underneath, and just stared at the empty road. I felt such a pang of hate and unending anger for Lucas, not once had I seen Damien so hopeless, so scared. For the first time in my life, I wanted to kill someone, but not just swift and quickly, no, no, no. I wanted to tear him apart and hear his shrill, pain filled screams. I wanted it to echo and echo for miles and for his throat to shred by the pure _agony_ that I was forcing him through.

I didn't even realise how darkly I was taking until I was at Damien's side, and even at that I still felt an odd wonder at the thoughts of murdering Lucas.

"Hey, come on Damien, get up. We have to go," I calmly said, urging him on with a tug of his jumper.

With no resistance he rose and just silently walked next to me, his head facing the ground, eyes deep in his mind, but he was not thinking. I could tell from the brief glimpse I got that he had gone blank, if I were in his shoes I would have too. I could never imagine being betrayed by someone as close as a father. Then again, I had never had one.

"Take us by the alleys," Kenneth sternly said, glaring back at the house, no one was following. The shot must have scared them off.

I took them without a second word, we did not talk, and all we did was let it sink in.

Lucas had some cult following, presumably satanic, they were going to kill Damien and Kenneth but I managed to get there in time to stop them. They were going to come for us soon, and we needed to grab Karen, and run. Run like there was no tomorrow, because if we were caught, there would not be a tomorrow.

Halfway through our rushed walk, I noticed that my hand was entwined with Damien's, I did not question it, I may have inwardly shuddered, but I did not question it. He needed comfort, much more than what I could give, but it was the best he was going to get, he had no father to turn to.

We were completely voiceless until we got to the apartment, luckily without pursuers, and as soon as I opened the door, Kenneth burst in as fast as light itself, up the stairs and out of sight before I could even blink. He was so fast that his quick form had brought some life into Damien, and he squeezed onto my own palm in some attempt to reassure himself, before I led him slowly up the stairs.

When we reached the second flight he began to talk, "Contacts," he muttered.

"pardon?" I asked,

"Dad was wearing contacts, for... for years I... I couldn't tell, how?"

Shaking my head, I led him once more, "You were used to it, so used that you probably never questioned it."

On the next flight he talked again, "He was going to kill me, wasn't he? He was going to kill me and Kenny," he asked, sounding lost and very much unlike himself.

"Yeah... yeah he was," I simply responded, he needed the truth.

He let go of my grip and sat down on the closest step, I awkwardly followed, he watched the wall as if it contained all of his answers. "Do you know why he was going to stab me and Kenny?" He paused, prying the wall for more information, before softly, and quietly saying, "Said I was the... the Bringer of the End. Huh, my dad thinks I'm the fucking antichrist. That's not true, right?"

I looked at him as a Christian parent would look when they walk into their child playing Dungeons and Dragons, as if he was mental. "You're joking, right?"

He did not return the look, the wall held no answers, so he must have thought the floor contained them, "No, I mean... yeah, yeah, I guess, just. It's just, that dad's ill, that he's... not right."

I gave him a tug on the arm and brought him to his feet, "yeah, that's just it, now come on, let's go check on Kenneth."

"Yeah, let's go."

I had forgotten that there were two bodies at the end of my floor, a thing that I should have tried to remember in retrospect, Damien's outburst of "holy shit!" didn't do good to lighten the mood, neither did the blood or the guns.

Bringing Damien to the apartment was probably one of the stupidest ideas I had made, leaving Karen there being a close second and having sex with him a definite third. I was an utter fool, and I was paying for my mistakes by near traumatising my best friend, my friends sister, and I was probably going to break his will when I told him that the previous night was nothing to me. After the scenario would he even be my friend, or would we both end up as corpses to Lucas, the blond man, James and whoever was the thirs?

Like an angry rainstorm in the jungles of South America, he had wept, sitting on my red sofa, with a red face that was only confused, terrified and betrayed. He did not reach out for me, and I kept my distance, I left him to his weeping, left Kenneth to hug and look after Karen, and moved to dispose of the bodies of Trent and Eric.

We had twenty-four hours, if Lucas were so inclined to keep his word, and to have stinking corpses messing up our hidey-hole would only make us queasy and have us at a disadvantage. I was still acting like a heartless bastard, I told myself, but instead of rectifying that, I dragged the body of Trent to the stairs. People were easier to push around when dead, I found out, if I had descended to any more heartlessness I might have mocked the bodies, but I did not want to stop so low to something like the people who I dragged.

In half an hour Trent was hidden behind the always-unlocked door to the apartment building's boiler room, another forty-five minutes and his partner in death joined him. As carefully as I could, I laid them down next to each other, even going as far as to unconsciously place both of Eric's hands over his chest. I found my sympathy for him to be strange.

Damien met me half way up the stairs, and embraced me in a large, shivering hug; I kept my arms to my side and allowed him to calm down on my still form. He had love in his eyes, but I had none, I was just still and silent.

"You're different," he muttered.

Bewildered, I asked, "What do you mean?" and he let go of me, staring sadly into my eyes.

"You're just different, you're silent... stone, you're like stone."

With a shrug of my shoulders, I said, "When was I ever talkative?"

"You're still different. But I love you, and I'm sorry." I flinched at his words but he did not notice.

"You're sorry?"

"If I hadn't have become friends with you, then you wouldn't have gotten in this mess."

I smiled at him, "I'd still be in this mess, only you and Kenneth would be dead and I'd have more bruises."

If times were not so dire, he would have smiled back, "yeah, and last night," he muttered, "Let's go back up." I felt a headache at his mention of the encounter, he remembered and did not regret. He had actually been sincere about his feelings. If only I had known before hand, I could have shot it down weeks ago, or even just the previous night, and only have one problem on my hands. No, I would have needed to shoot it down weeks before, last night was irreversible, and I could have never changed it unless given much more time. But if I had much more time I would have just tried to kill Lucas and live with jail time. At least I wouldn't have to break Damien's heart.

 _'When had we switched places to him being the fragile one?'_ I asked myself, but gave no answer.

I moved behind him, in single file, up the stairway and into my apartment. Kenneth had sat himself in the living room, Karen sleeping on his lap, and he had the shotgun leaning against his leg, as a thing of comfort.

"Pip, call the cops, we're idiots." He simply said, grinning like he'd just won the world's most dangerous game, and at the time, we _were_ playing it.

It took me a second to realise, "Oh my god, we are." The police may have not been in South Park itself, but 911 directed us to the county station, the county station was in North Park, not South, there was only a small police station in South Park. One telephone call and we would have cops ready to help. We had found the killers and they were obliged to help.

Nearly laughing, I dialled the number, it rang once, twice, and then it was picked up. I could almost feel tears of happiness when I heard the voice.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency," said Mark, how and why he was in north park wasn't a matter, I was in contact with someone I actually somewhat knew.

"God, Mark, help, bloody hell, help." Damien looked up at my words, he was smiling as well, not sadly, he was genuinely happy, and I felt a similar glee.

"Pip?" he asked. "Pip, is that you, thank fucking hell then, got here in time."

I paused, "got here in time?"

"Yeah," he let out a long sigh, "a second too late and you would have got to North Park, then we'd be fucked as all hell."

"What's wrong?" Damien asked when he noticed the despair in my eyes.

"Yeah," Mark said, "Lucas, hell yeah, right again, I knew he was. Fuck kid; thank the unholy one that you're so slow." I could almost hear his grin, and his rehearsed tone wasn't helping. "One day until we prove ourselves to the master, say goodbye you little shit." Somehow, he had managed to find some way to get in the way of South Parks emergency phone calls, probably using equipment from the police station.

I was at the absolute end of my strings, and when he hung up, I had fallen off.

"God fucking DAMN IT," I shouted. "DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT. DAMN THAT FUCKER. THAT GOD DAMNED MOTHER FUCKER." I screamed at the top of my lungs, before simply seething in red hot, boiling rage. Damien and Kenneth were wide eyed, and Karen was terrified.

"So... the police are a no go?" Kenneth asked, smiling falsely, I was not falling for it, now of all the times.

"No." I harshly stated, trying to calm down."No. It was Mark, and Mark's one of them." I broke then, I fell to the floor hid my red face from the world and just pathetically pleaded, "What are we going to do now?"


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: And now onto chapter 31, the end is nearing, i anticipate the final product being in the late 90,000 words to the early 100,000, just in case anyone was wondering. Constructive criticism is always allowed, yada, yada,yada.**

Chapter 31

The door was barricaded with furniture and the others had holed up in the living room by the time I had calmed down. For the twenty minutes that I was having my internal fit, Damien and Kenneth decided to be productive, and Karen quietly consoled my by gently tracing circles in my back. Comforting as it was, I realised that if we messed up, Karen would probably die. We didn't know what they would do with me and her, probably kill, but we didn't seem important to whatever plan they had.

If they caught us and I somehow lived after Kenneth, Damien and maybe even Karen dying... I would not know how I would live. The thought that there was a chance of me being an only survivor made my mind go white with shock, as if I couldn't comprehend the concept. I guess if that would have happened, I would have lived In absolute shell shock and traumatisation, if we all weren't traumatised enough.

I would have guessed that it would have been Damien to calm me, but Karen's gentle, childish words were something of a sedative.

Whatever had happened in the twenty minutes of barricading, be it a self-made revelation or something from Kenneth, Damien was much calmer in his look, and he took charge when he saw me still sitting on the floor. He led me to the sofa, took hold of the revolver in case anything happened and instructed me to get some rest.

Knowing that I was probably safe, I complied.

Every nightmare I had ever had paled and shrieked in their own horror in comparison to what I saw that day.

In the realm of my own mind, I saw Damien, sitting atop a pillar of molten rock on a throne of lava and looking over a plane of fire and of the dead, red eyes now shining with a malicious glee. At his hands, he commanded legions of vile things, from crawling worms and bugs that festered and feasted on the burning bodies that lead below to black formless shadow like demons that swirled around him in worship, madly singing tunes that pierced the head like a nail, and burst eardrums like a roaring explosion. I was looking not at Damien, but at what Lucas thought Damien was. I was looking at the antichrist in my own head, and the antichrist had the form of my friend.

I was standing amongst the many corpses, and if it were real I would have held complete horror, but I was calm in my vivid dream.

Damien leaped from his throne, black wings burst from his back like a bird jumping to flight, and he gently lowered himself to my level.

He did not speak, only smiled; _this imagination is not Damien_ , I had to remind myself, _it is all just imagination_ , but it hurt when he brought his hand slowly to my forehead and I felt fire burn me alive. I was dreaming of hell, a real hell, where the world burned for eternity. A world that may have came to pass if Lucas were right, and if he succeeded.

I woke up screaming. It was short lived by Damien embracing me to stop my thrashing and Kenneth coming to my side to see what the matter was, but I still woke screaming.

I had been asleep for three hours, it was nearing mid-day yet I felt as if I had only slept for ten minutes and had been up for weeks.

In seconds I had gotten myself out of Damien's grip and was sitting on my own, in my reading chair, he didn't seem offended, I wished that he was.

"Well," Kenneth began, to try to ease the situation, "Seeing as you're awake, what the fuck are we going to do. Besides sit like lambs waiting to be sacrificed."

I shrugged but Damien spoke, "Couldn't we try to just run, get to North Park and get the police."

"No busses, none of us can drive a car and fuck if I'm thinking about trekking up and around that mountain, a bullet sounds much more pleasing than hypothermia. Ya hear of those stories, twenty hikers a year die up there." Kenneth smirked falsely, "And fuck if my life goes to being a statistic to some pricks in office." It was true, south park was an isolated town, there was hardly a gas station for ten miles when you went out of the towns borders, North park was scarcely fifty miles away. You cold only get there by driveing the roads or going the shorter path of walking around Mt South.

The problem was that if we braved the roads then chances were that Lucas would spot us if he were actively searching. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had someone watching the one road exit constantly.

Damien sighed, "Well shit. Phillip. I've got to say, I'm glad that we did that-"

I swiftly interrupted him with a fiery glare, " _NOT FUCKING NOW_ ," I screamed with fists clenched so hard that my knuckles were white like sheets and the skin under my nails were as red as blood.

Damien quickly recoiled in shock at my outburst, and quieted, Kenneth looked on oddly and Karen... just silent next to Kenneth, she was surely used to arguments. Although I didn't know if my fury was worse or lesser than her fathers and mothers arguments. I hoped lesser, but I could tell my anger was worse.

It was about half five, and I had not done much but be angry and fed up. Inside I had accepted that this night was probably going to be my last, so I left the others to think and stormed to my bedroom to sleep. We were going to die, headed straight to hell or wherever. Lucas would be furious that his son was no antichrist, and the world would go on without me and the others.

An hour passed and Damien entered without knocking, I noticed that even through my foul mood, he was sterner now. Much more like the Damien I remembered from, what seemed like, months ago. Whatever encouragement Kenneth had given him was working to some degree.

He closed the door gently, and the click of the latch closing echoed as if the room were made of solid steel.

He eyed me from the closed doorway, monotone and pity filed, with an underlying sadness in his overall form.

"It was nothing wasn't it? Last night." At my nod, he glanced away from me in disappointment. "Kenny told me what you did yesterday, fully, with Eric. I am sorry, I could tell you were weak and scared and I thought that you accepted me when you... well, accepted me. I led you on. Sort of. Sorry. After Dad... I've had my head in the god damned clouds, but, thank you. I'm sorry for being an asshole and thank you. If that means anything now." I nodded once more; he gave a small smile, "mind if I sit down in here? Kenny and his sister need space."

I felt a grin tug at my lips, Damien didn't seem to breke, he seemed more like himself. If I was to be getting back to _my_ normal self was a different question.

With a brief gesture to the bed on my part, he placed himself down. Before either of us could let out a word, he brought the revolver from his pocket and laid it down on my lap. "Take it," he said, "Hell if I know how to use it."

I left it there, I didn't know if I wanted to touch another gun, although I knew that eventually I would have to.

"Isn't hell where we're going though?" I asked, although not to Damien, to myself.

He took me as to asking him, "If dad's right, yeah, but he isn't, we're still the kings of this world, remember, better than everyone else. Were smart, _you're_ smart. You've dealt with bullshit before, you can deal with bullshit again. Sure, this is different bullshit but bullshit all the same, even if you're the only one who get's the fuck out of here, I know that you'll be fine. You're one of those people. Strange, dad thinks I'm some prince of darkness, yet I'd think that'd be you."

I felt my spirits raise enough to spare him an offended glance, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're much more likable than I am. If I were some antichrist I'd need those features to manipulate people wouldn't I? worm my way into their lives and break them down for amusement alone. That's what I think an antichrist would do. I can't do that."

"So you're saying I'd make a good antichrist? Huh, at least I die on a high note."

"Shut up. You're not going to die," he said, forceful and convicted.

"No," I responded looking him dead in the eye with the stillness of prepared beast, "I'm going to die. Flat on my face, a bullet in my chest. I have it coming to me, I deserve it, you're going to be fine though, I'll make sure of it."

"You don't deserve it, why would you deserve it?"

"Because... Because I am bad, I am evil, I am a murderer. Damien I am a murderer! I'm going straight to hell, burning in the fires with demons cackling in my ears. You're going to be fine though, you're going to be fine."

He just looked disappointed, "I miss it when you were a massive wimp."

I laughed then, loud and hard and full of stress, with mutterings of "so do I."


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: More chapters, as of writing, I am virtually finished, only a small stretch to the goal. Also, if anyone couldn't tell before, I'm English or British (or whatever you folks in the states call us) so that is why I write colour as such and why in the first chapter I wrote 10/4/16 as meaning the 8th day of April. Just in case anyone was wondering.**

Chapter 32

It was at ten at night when we left the apartment building, under the cover of a black sky we made our way down back alleys and empty streets once more. Although now I felt less of a sprinting man then a scampering rodent, hunted by cats twice my size. In fact, less cats, more tigers, armed with better wits and sharper claws.

Kenneth was at the front, leading us with Karen's hand in one of his, and the handgun in the other.

"Ya know," Kenneth said, "I've always heard stories about places where some bad shit would happen and everyone would up and leave, I never expected it to happen here though."

"No one did," I said, keeping an eye behind me, to make sure Damien didn't get out of my sight.

"Where are we actually going?" Damien asked, speeding up so that he was just behind me, since we talked he had been calm and collected, no longer a shadow of his former self.

"Kyle's place, if we're in luck they'd have left their car, if not, we're back at stage one," he replied, stopping when we reached the end of the street, looked both ways, and turned right. We followed shortly after.

Kyle's parents had taken both cars, and if Kenneth did not know where they hid their spare key then we would have been stuck in town with three psychopaths and been in the cold. What a setback, frostbite _and_ bullets.

The house was in disarray, to say the least, the shelves had been scooped swiftly of items, anything that was not collected in the first sweep had been left on the ground. The glass of a snow globe here, an antique clock there, toppled chairs and dirty footprints around showing how much of a hurry everyone was in. They had left quickly, but obviously not effectively.

The same was for almost every room in the house, it took about ten minutes to explore and scrounge everywhere, most of the larger stuff - computers, TV's and the likes - had been left to rot.

"For a Jew, he left some valuable shit," Kenny joked, turning on Kyle's PC, the blue LED's lit up for a second and the fans span and hummed in life, ready to cool the CPU as a servant would a master. Then Kenneth turned it off and the lights fell black and the servants stopped their worship. He flipped Kyle's mattress up so he could see clearly under the bed.

"What... are you doing?" I questioned, perplexed, before looking down myself, all I could see was some boxes and a lot of clear space.

"I'm trying to find what weird shit Kyle keeps, so I can piss him off when this is all done."

"Are you serious?"

He fell to the floor and pulled out one of the boxes, "Of course I am, why not use this to our advantage, we've still got to some shit when we're out of this, may as well find some fun blackmail. Look at the other boxes, will you?"

Instead, I left him to his searching and tried to find Karen, she was alone, and that wasn't good in a situation like this. She was in the parents room, asleep on the bed, she had been going through more than just a tough night, so I left her be.

It was eleven fifty five by the time we organised ourselves with food, we were ready to plan. If that was anything to care about.

"Anyone know how to hotwire a car?" was Kenneth's first question, the answer was a resounding no. "Well, fuck, Stan's family only has one and the Fatass's... shit, oh shit." He fell into a panicked continuation of that word, he was looking straight at me with utter guilt, as if I was shooting him the most hurt expression.

"What!" Damien practically yelled in worry.

"Liane... uh, Cartman's mom, she's... I think she's still here."

A silence became present, and I felt Kenneth's guilt, she was probably terrified for her son, probably got in contact with the police... or Mark in this case.

"She's probably dead," I grimly said.

"Wait, why?" Damien whispered, now mindful of Karen.

"She probably gave Mark her address, when she eventually called the cops I mean, and they probably got to her... I'm guessing."

"Let's not hope that," was Damien's reply, but I think we all believed my words.

After a long, thought filled pause, Kenneth spoke again, "dad's van could work, if they haven't left, we can go to my place and try to make them give us a ride."

"Better plan then nothing," Damien added, just as the smell of burning hit our nostrils, the smell made my nose feel like acid and some primal fear struck me to my feet.

The time had just passed twelve o clock, it was the time of the hunt, or the chase or whatever Lucas and his followers were to call it, and they started with fire.

Kyle's house had wooden foundations, a fact that terrified everyone in the room, that, and the smell was stronger, and smoke slowly wafted from downstairs as if forced by some waving, invisible hand.

Then Karen screamed and Kenneth sprinted up the stairs, screaming "I'm coming!" back.

It wasn't hard to figure that Lucas was trying to smoke us out, and it almost worked as I was ready to bolt for the door, but Karen's screaming convinced me otherwise. Instead of braving the smoky upstairs though, I felt as if I was stuck to the ground and I couldn't help but remember my nightmare of Damien in the plane of fire.

Our roles had reversed again, it seemed, as he gripped onto the sleeve of my shirt and brought me up the stairs to find the wandering smoke covering the ceiling like a spectral plaster and the faintest licks of orange glowing from under the door of the parent's bedroom. Kenneth was franticly banging on the door, tears in his eyes as he tried to barge the door open, the handle was red with heat and would be more than painful to open with bare hands.

Karen wailed louder and Damien joined Kenneth in trying to get the door down. Once they bashed their shoulders into the door to no avail, a second time and the door bent inwards slightly but nothing else, at the third the glow of flames from below were much brighter and the sounds of crying and pure crackling fire overpowered their heavy sieges against the door.

I was going to recommend shooting the lock off, but the guns were downstairs where we had piled them. I couldn't voice this though because Kenneth acted madly when the smoke lowed to his eyes and Karen screamed in pain.

He gripped the handle, hissing in pain as the red hot metal seared his palm, but in one fluid motion he twisted the know and swung the door inwards, bringing forth a billowing cloud of smoke, as black as an abyss and as hot as Africa.

Kenneth rushed in then leaving us in silence. He shouted and waved off the smoke, the inside of the room was hell, burning and falling, the wardrobe had already collapsed in on itself, the carpet was almost entirely aflame, as was the bed. It quickly rushed to the doorframe, and was spreading around the house fast. Almost in an intriguing spectacle did it spread and begin consuming the house. We had to leave fast.

Karen only came out, red eyed and sobbing, I only noticed her when she clutched onto my shirt. Kenneth was still in the room, I hardly made out his sloughed through the fire and smoke that still flew out like rampant spirits. He was staring out of the window, was what I could tell.

It only took his one cry of "Get the fuck out of here!" to send me and Damien going, he scooped up Karen and ran out, me trailing behind only to see her thrashing and cries for his brother, then the smash of a window and shouts from outside.

We were outside in seconds, sticky with sweat and with smoke stained eyes, but that didn't stop us from running down the street towards Kenneth's house, and it didn't stop the echoing sound of the gunshot. It reverberated down the street and gave one clear message: chances were, Kenneth had met his maker.

We ran away, like the cowards we were.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

We ran for a good three minutes until the sounds of a motors monstrous roar brought us to the side of the nearest house. A cone of bright light, the searchlight that could have meant our doom, shone down the street, growing closer and brighter. Closer and closer and nearly as bright as a full moon before the van sped past us, and made a sharp right down the junction, slamming the back end into a lamp post then driving off.

Like it was a tree, the lamp post fell to the ground with a resounding crunch as metal caved in, glass crashed and shattered. Then sparks flew from the severed wires.

We made our leave, still hearing the roar of the van.

Karen, still in Damien's grip did not thrash much; she was exhausted from the sudden fire and Kenneth's sudden heroics. She cried loudly, and I would have joined her in grief, but I stopped myself, although that wasn't very hard, I had spent up all my tears and I could grieve when her and Damien were safe. Kenneth's parents were still a very viable option, and with Lucas and the other two causing such mindless mayhem, then I was sure the McCormick's would be more than willing to get out of town. If they hadn't already left, that was.

The only contact that me and Damien shared in our walk through the concrete labyrinth that was South Park, was a singe look of sadness.

Twice we had to hide from the van, both times had the sweat from the fire coming back in a proud stride and had my heart racing as if an invisible hand was forcibly squeezing it as fast as it could.

The bright headlights were like malevolent eyes, always watching what was in front of it, ready to show anyone at any time. The shone dark shadows down past us, and when the people in the van slowed down to search the streets more effectively, the lights were the most dangerous warning signal in the world.

On the second spotting of the van, when we had flattened ourselves behind the dumpsters of a side ally, the van screeched to a halt, just outside the house we were hiding next to. I was positive that we had been found, and when I peaked my head out to see what was happening, I only caught a glimpse of the van driving passed, with Jack driving, and Lucas in the passenger's seat, talking franticly on a phone. Then they drove passed.

When we reached Kenneth's house it was horribly silent and lifeless, we were only lucky that Karen was asleep. It would have probably broken her entirely to find that either her parents had left her, or Lucas had taken a more intense approach.

The McCormick's truck was there, but unusable, the tyres had been popped, and the bonnet was propped open, showing no engine. We were out of plans.

Rage became my companion again, and I nearly fell into feverish anger, I was ready to kick and scream and curse to no end. Karen was asleep though, and Damien, although he had regained his cool domineer, he was still probably as stressed as I was.

Then the front door opened, and I swear I went mad, because I saw Kenneth in the doorway, with a solemn half grin.

It took Damien's shock to prove that it was real. "Jesus Christ, are you ok?" he asked, although Kenneth did defiantly not look ok.

His left hand was smothered in bandages and hung limply to his side. A thinner amount of bandages covered the left side of his head, blond hair spilled out somewhat and a small hole was cut out for his eye, but there was no flesh being shown. It was odd that none of his hair was singed but I was not going to question anything, he was alive.

"I'm good; don't go inside by the way. Car's fucked as well."

Carefully I asked, "what's inside?"

Kenneth said with dry, fake humour "Shit ton of blood, mom's time of the month I think." Kenneth was hollow, his almost always excited eyes were no longer brilliant sapphires but now they were like grey puddles in a dirty path.

I glanced over to Karen and felt gooseflesh bump up my arm as if the skin were boiling, "Your parents are... they're dead, aren't they?"

I could see the sobs ready to burst from Kenneth, and when I made my way to the door he finally let out a small gasp of sadness, quickly he jumped up and grabbed my arm, "don't go in there! Please!" he pleaded.

I could see inside clearly though from the open door, their living room was barren of much furniture, the grizzly sight was in full display.

Carol McCormick, Kenneth's mother, lay splayed in the front room, several puncture wounds decorated her chest. Her pale eyes gazed lost in the ceiling.

Kenneth finally sounded sad and lost, "Dad's fucked off, he... This was him, he did this. He's taken his truck and trashed mom's. Is Karen ok?"

We all turned our eyes to the sleeping kid; Damien was still awkwardly holding her. We had to get her as far away from her mother as possible.

"Is it ever supposed to... not hurt?" Kenneth wondered, emotionless as he looked back at the still form of his mother.

I shook my head and gently pulled him away from the door, "I don't know, maybe."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: And we move on, soon, I guess by at most the end of the year, this will be finished!**

Chapter 34

We began our way to the next destination; Kenneth led, far in the front, now holding the unconscious Karen. She did not deter or move in her sleep, even with such cold and such movement, an earthquake probably couldn't wake her.

Damien stayed at my side though, he was calm and now the Damien who thought of me as his lover was gone, and the sterner, calmer one was back. I hadn't changed though, I was still slipping further into pessimism and complete fear, I could feel it. And I did not reject it.

The Damien from my dream was still not there, his crimson eyes were not mad and evil, but _human_ one look behind me affirmed that he was no demon.

I wondered how I could even think such a thing, that my best friend was some vile thing born of darkness, but somewhere in the deepest, most shaded corner of my subconscious I wondered: _perhaps he is_.

I stopped dead in my tracks for a second, and shook my head at the mad thought. The only response from the outside was a startled grunt from Damien and a look back from Kenneth, but inside I felt a war was being waged.

 _Perhaps he is, what_ _ **if**_ _he is, he could be doing this as a ruse. You've seen the madness that Lucas has caused, you've seen the unbelievable, it could always get more unbelievable, couldn't it?_

I shook my head but pressed onwards, we were just passing up Main Street, to the side of a little bakery, hidden by the buildings shadow. Kenneth stopped for a moment to check if the coast was clear.

 _He might be. Maybe. He's been so nice though... could he? If he is... I'd guess I'd have to stop him... Jesus. What the fuck am I thinking about. Hurting Damien? We have to run from Lucas. Yes... bloody hell. But what if-_

My train of thought was stopped as fast as a car crash by Kenneth reeling swiftly backwards into the alley and falling flat on his buttocks.

A bright headlight illuminated the alley for a moment as the van drove passed with a thunderous growl. It squealed suddenly as it turned and moved down a turning for a second before it audibly _screeched_ as it came to a halt.

"Kuh-Kenny?" Karen mumbled as she came slowly out of sleep, I could see her eyes widen in glee, "KEN-" she was interrupted by Kenneth slapping a hand over her mouth.

We all held a breath together, I looked back to see that Damien had this strange, faraway look about him, yet he still held the same anxiousness. He knew he was in trouble, but he visibly refused to believe who was going to reprimand him for the _trouble_.

He was the first to release his breath, "that's my dad... isn't..." he got out.

A gunshot came first to interrupt him, and then the sound of shattering glass shortly after, then third came Lucas's furious bellow.

" _WHERE THE FUCKING HELL DID YOU SEE THEM?_ "

Damien's breath hitched once more.

A smaller, nervous and anxious voice followed him, "Jeez Luke, _you_ said they're here... I just said I saw-"

" _I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT_ _ **I**_ _SAID, WHAT DID_ _ **YOU**_ _SEE?"_

Kenneth then picked Karen up again, sprinted out of the alley and ran north. In confusion, me and Damien followed him out, and we barely caught him disappearing into another alley, about five meters down the road. When we followed him there we saw that he was sprinting through the back gardens of the houses. We then followed him and Lucas's shouts fell out of earshot.

In about ten minutes we had reached the Jackal Hill that led up to the school, and where the bloody massacre ended. It stood high up, like a watchtower or lighthouse, beckoning us to come to it's safety, but it was not just a lighthouse for us.

I wish I had stayed behind just a second longer to catch wind of the last of Lucas's conversation, then the ordeal would have played out a lot differently. I don't know what was actually said, but I can guess it went something like this:

" _WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU SEE THEM?_ "

The other, probably James, as Lucas had called him, must have stayed silent for a little time in thought. "I think I saw a head poking out from that bakery, looking our way. What's up there?"

Lucas then might have gotten out of the car, if he wasn't out already, and gone back onto Main Street. He probably had a brief search, seen nothing out of the ordinary, before his eyes caught a glimpse of the school.

The school, which stood solitary and waiting. Where we knew the halls, and thought we could be safe. The school that was like a lighthouse.

"Where did they go Luke?"

He would have paused for a bit, probably trying to enforce his clichéd grandiose-ness of the whole situation, then said, "They're heading to the school... Call Mark. Get the guns."

I wish I had stayed back just that second longer to find out what they really said.

It took a small while until we had calmed down, and Damien said, once the air seemed to have lost a smidge of tension, "I think I know why dad called me Damien."

"Why's that?" I asked. We had been going up the hill for a good five minutes and only now had Damien spoken.

"Have you ever read _The Omen_?"

Kenneth interrupted, "the film?"

"It's a book as well, and the main characters the..." he trailed on.

"The antichrist, called Damien," I answered for him.

Kenneth spared a single snort of stressed laughter, "there's being named after a film character and then there's that. So this has been going on for years then?"

Damien cocked his head, "What has?"

"The whole... Satan thing. It's been going on since you were born."

Karen spoke then, "Satan thing? I thought he was bad... is Damien bad?"

Suddenly relived, Kenneth ruffled her hair and told her no. Although I couldn't help but remember my awful dream.

Somehow that had became the center of my attention, the plane of fire with Damien looking so ungodly and merciless. So unlike how I knew him. It had set something of a chain reaction of paranoia in me; paranoia that I knew was false.

The school building was just coming into view, and an awkward silence had cast itself like a sheet of fog over us. "Why do you think?"

Damien cast a single glance, "Why do I think what?"

"That you're dad's... like this."

A solemn look passed over him and I carefully danced around what I said, "you don't have to answer."

He shook his head, "No, no, I... I may as well, I think... I think it's because of mom."

"Didn't you say you knew nothing of her?"

"I don't know a lot, I know that she died... well, giving birth to me, maybe when he only had me, he sort of... I don't know. I... I really don't know."

"You're thinking too hard about this," Kenneth loudly declared, "we can both agree your old man's nuts. Being nuts doesn't have a reason, at least here it doesn't. Sorry man, he's just mental."

" _He's still my father!_ " Damien shouted, Kenneth stopped still and span round, spitting back:

" _AND HE'S FUCKING NUTS_..." he stopped his gaze away, suddenly guilty, "...sorry about that. It's getting to me."

He looked back up and horror slapped itself onto him, his jaw was agape at whatever was behind us.

"I'd have to disagree... Luke is prolly the most sane out of all of us here," the person behind us said.

I span on the spot to find it was James, the blond haird man, the one who had been watching me from my hospital window. He had both his arms behind his back, and calmness in his eyes. "he's a smart one, Luke," he continued, "Know's what he's doin', better than me at least. He's off to go get Mark, could you... stay here please, make it easier."

Even though it was unimportant, I felt the need to ask, "Why were you watching me all that time ago?"

He cocked his head in confusion before forming his mouth into an o of realisation, "Luke asked, to make sure you weren't up to any funny business. Ya know, to make sure you were the Sin."

"The what?"

"The Sin, the one to push Damien to be the anti-" He began, but Damien interrupted him.

" _PHILLIP RUN!"_ he shouted, sprinting to James and tackling him to the ground. James's arms went flinging and his gun flew from his grip, landing a few steps away from where he and Damien were wrestling on the ground.

Disobeying his orders, I made my way to the weapon on the ground, but James saw me and stick out a foot. I tripped and landed on the floor, the cold snow met my face. I looked back to ask Kenneth for help, but he had already began sprinting to the school with Karen in his hands.

He pushed Damien off of him for a second, but was tackled back down.

I got up and ran to the gun again, this time I managed to get the cold plastic of the weapon in my grasp. I aimed it at James just as Damien landed a solid punch against him.

"Ow," he cried, "Jesus, fuck, stop you prick!" He thrashed and wormed against Damien's grip but was stopped by a combination of Damien planting his knee on his chest and me aiming the barrel at his forehead. He gave a sharp intake of breath when he felt the cold metal, "shit," he muttered. He looked right at me, "Don't shot me. If you kill me Luke won't stop you know," he said, "he was fuckin' furious when the Immortal shot Jack."

Damien punched him again, "Shut the fuck up!" he demanded, "Kenny's no god damned immortal and I'm no god damned antichrist!"

"Damned alright," he muttered, he received another punch. A large bruise was forming on his right cheek.

"Why are you doing this?"

James was silent for a short while before he answered, "Rapture."

"Rapture?"

While he was confused, James pushed Damien off him. The sudden movement caused my fingers to slip and the bullet went wide. James crawled up to his feet and began running away, I aimed the gun at him... but I coulden't feel the power to shoot. I thought of Eric, his dead body next to Trent's and I was paralyzed still.

Damien started to run after him, but he was to slow now, and it would be too dangerous to chase him into the town.

Shaking his head, Damien came to me and gave me a hand, of which I gladly accepted and we walked the rest of the way to the school.

"I told you to run... but I'm glad you didn't. That could have gone much worse," he said when we reached the gate.

The double doors to the school were wide open and Kenneth was sitting down inside, right next to the doors with Karen resting her head in his lap, he had both hands over her ears.

He looked out and saw us, I expected him to grin, but he just nodded for us to come in.

"You kill him?" he asked, motioning to the gun in my hands.

Damien shook his head, "no, he's ran off, we should leave soon though, they're going to be coming soon."

"What's the point?" Kenneth sadly questioned.

Fed up, Damien muttered, "Oh don't do this."

As if it were a stage direction, Kenneth gently moved Karen, who got up and moved a few steps away, confused at what Kenneth was saying. But her confusion left when he jumped to his feet with a smile.

"Yeah, like fuck am I just going to let Karen get hurt. Come on, let's go grab some shit and leave."

I could tell there was the slightest hint of doubt in his tone; I'd go as far as to say that he was outright lying.

He had led Karen to the headmaster's office and, upon finding it locked, did the reasonable act of asking me for my gun. We were only lucky that the bullet hadn't ricocheted off of the metal and went flying into someone's forehead. Karen and I both let out a shrill yelp of surprise when he blew the lock off and kicked the door inward. If he weren't there, I would have guessed that Karen would have burst into tears, but it seemed that she wanted to be strong for her big brother.

Kudos to her, she was doing better than me.

Kenneth was certainly becoming more reckless. As soon as she was in there he ran off to find Damien (who had began raiding the school for foodstuffs for us to eat on our walk to north park.

I was left alone with Karen.

"Um... mister Pip?" She asked, looking up her eyes brim with naivety.

I shrugged and offered a warm smile, "Just Pip, what's wrong?" I could certifiably say that I was appalling with children.

"What's actually going on? I don't know," she asked, in only the way a child could ask, and I think my heart could have broken if the events hadn't made me so much more unreceptive.

I shrugged, "Damien's dad is a bad man, he just wants to hurt Damien and Kenne... Kenny. We just have to get away from him, we'll be fine."

"are you sure?" She asked with that same, childish way.

I nodded simply, and moved further into the room.

She looked behind me, gave a sharp scream, and I felt the barrel of yet another bloody gun aimed at me.

Once more, someone had crept behind me, once more I was put into this type of situation.

I had to learn to stop this from happening soon, or at least will this god forsaken trend to end.

Then Lucas spoke.

"Tell me where my son is, or I'll burn this bitch alive."

The trend ended today, I decided, but I was not mad enough to tempt Lucas into shooting me. So I raised my hands in defeat.

"Where is my fucking son?" he growled.

A sudden courage built within me when I noticed Karen inside the room slowly moving to the desk, if she could just get underneath it then she would have some protection. I could die for all I cared, as long as she was safe.

"What's rapture?" I asked.

"What we're bringing," he said, " _where's my fucking son_?" he demanded, pushing the gun closer against my head. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears.

She had slowly gotten her way halfway across the room, only a little while from the thick wooden desk. Then she stopped still, and the gun left the back of my head and to the side.

Once it fired, and Karen fell to the ground, screaming and yelling in the most horrible way.

I began to run towards her, but once more, the weapon was at me, and the cold metal was like a snakebite, paralyzing and sharp.

She was still screaming though, but that died down to teary whimpers, her left arm had the wound, it was bleeding badly. Nevertheless, she was still alive!

There was a sudden shout of " _KAREN!_ " from somewhere deep in the school. It was clearly Kenneth. In response, Lucas wrapped an arm around my neck, and began dragging me, kicking and screaming.

The trend wasn't ending, it seemed.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Not long left! Defiantly not long left!**

Chapter 35

He dragged me across the school; behind his hefty robes was a horrifying strength. He pulled me as if I was a children's toy and all of my struggling was useless. I was sure that one punch would knock me clean out.

We stopped just at the hallway between the cafeteria and the English block. I had no idea how he could see me, it was so dark, no windows shed moonlight, it was as if I were stuck hundreds of miles underground. The air felt like that, as if it was stuffy and thin, I breathed heavy and quick, my heart pounded again and again and again.

" _Shut up you whore!_ " he demanded in a harsh whisper, there was silence outside of my own heartbeat. Just complete silence. "Good," he muttered, before shoving the barrel against me again and pulling me further into the building. Further into the darkness.

Before I knew he was doing anything else, he stopped again, kicked open the closest door and hurled me in.

I stumbled for a second, bet my chest whacked into a table and I fell onto the floor. The stench of old carpet stains and food met me.

Lucas flipped a switch and the old bulb blinked twice before duly glowing, so low that even moths would ignore it.

I rolled over and Lucas was looking up at the light, a thoughtful still line on his mouth, his eyes danced with joy. "You see," he said, bringing the gun up to aim at the bulb, "This is the sort of shit that makes me love this town. So cheap, so... so _broken._ And as you should know, or at least _I_ do, you can make something so good from something broken."

His toothy grin made its grand reappearance as he took two long strides towards me, " _just like what I'm doing here_ ," he said it in the most strangely perverse way. "My little bringer of sin, you don't know what you are, do you?"

Slowly I shook my head, and he burst into laughter. "Just like what I'd except from such a little shit! I... oh god, I cannot wait until you burn you _fucking idiot_. You don't even know that you've been manipulated!"

"Muh-manipulated?"

"You see! You see! You do not know that _He_ manipulated you. Only he's working into the masters' plans!"

Slowly I stood up, trying my best to look calmly at the raving lunatic, his gun followed my movements. "Who's he?" I shakily asked.

" _Judas!_ " he screamed, eliciting a gasp from me, " _HIM, THE LORD OF DARKNESS, THE LORD OF FIRE, THE DEVIL. SATAN!_ "

I was so confused, "What? I... I thought you were a... a devil worshiper."

I never saw the right hook, I was at the ground again swiftly, a tooth chipped, a bruise forming and blood spilling from my lips. I groaned at the sudden shocking pain that throbbed from my cheek.

" _DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT TO ME YOU FAGGOT!_ " He screamed. "YOU, MY SON AND THAT OTHER MAY BE SERVANTS OF DARKNESS BUT I AM NOT." HE calmed down and wrenched me to my feet before pulling out the nearest seat and slamming me down in there. I was far too dazed to do anything; the world was spinning as if I were drunk.

"I'm a servant of the master, of god!"

"What?" I slurred, coughing up the blood that mixed with my saliva.

"You think I'm doing this for Satan?" he demanded, "You disgusting prick! This is for god! For god I say! This is for rapture!"

The force of the blow was fully setting in, the world span more and more, I could even feel my own body move with the sway. "Whu... whu do ya meahn by rhap..." I got out before I fell forward. My guess about his punch was right.

I didn't dream though, it was hardly half a minute before I woke up again, sprawled on the floor with Lucas sitting just at my head, looking down at me. He had shed his robes, leaving his red jacket and jeans out.

"The rapture. You stupid prick. Bring forth the antichrist will bring the rapture to all that is good. And when I kill the antichrist, I will ascend," he explained, serious, so serious in his words that it was obvious he believed them. He believed every syllable.

He knelt down to my level and gripped me by the hair, making me stare right into his eyes, they were a murky brown, now that I had a better look, only bordering on red. "You're going to bring my son to me, because he's already lost."

"You... you're going to kill your own son?" I knew that he was going to, but I just _had_ to know if it was the truth, no one could just kill their offspring like that.

Then again, he was mental.

He looked genuinely shocked, "he wouldn't be my son though, he'd have ascended, because he did gods work. Let me kill the antichrist." He paused, "you though, you are going straight to hell when I blow your brains out."

He looked down at me, grinning wide and happy, genuinely happy as he brought the gun down to my head, the barrel was cool, as cold as only metal could be. My heart raced at a million miles a second while I looked down that barrel, time only ticking until he lost his nerve and killed me. Actually _kill_ me.

"Now you're going to scream help, as loud as you can, or... well, I think all you need is _or_."

Then I thought of Damien, and held my ground, "no."

Without hesitation, he took the barrel from my head and slammed the handle down at my forehead, sending me sprawling with a cry.

"You're going to scream help," he said it stilly and calmly.

"So you can kill my friend? No."

He sighed and crouched down to my eye level, "I will kill the antichrist within him whether you like it or not, but with you, I can make it swift, and I love my son, not in the same way you must claim to love him. I love him as God loves him."

I felt tears well and my throat feel as if it were convulsing, "I love him as a friend, you see him as some... object of... of fascination. I love him enough to not let him die."

He glared then, and stood up fast to land a kick in my abdomen, so hard that I felt as if I were going to puke.

"Give it time, just time. God will find a way to make you if he has to."

Before he turned though, I got a glance behind him at the door, and, in my blurred vision, I saw black hair and a pale face behind the window, obstructed by the glass. Nut in a second it was gone, simply a sight of my own mind, some hallucination from the lack of real sleep.

 _How long has it been since I actually slept?_ I asked myself, and as I questioned that, I felt my eyes drooping.

"Oh no you don't!" And like that I was wrenched from falling to sleep by Lucas's seething in rage above me. "You are going to decide if you are helping god, or the devil! Do you understand you little-"

He was cut short by the door swinging inwards, Damien rushing in, and a baseball bat flying across to meet his head.

He cried out and crumpled down to the floor; Damien lifted the bat once more and with a shout of fury smashed it down into Lucas's chest. He lifted it again, and smacked down, Lucas coughed up and moaned, twice more he slammed the bat down before he turned his head to me, and I saw the tears in his eyes.

"Come on... we're leaving."

He had saved me! He had actually saved me!


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Lucas was unconscious, he had been taken by surprise, but it wouldn't be long until he woke up.

"Are you ok? What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

Damien leaned closer towards me; I could see the tears at the corners of his eyes, the red of his nose, just how upset he was. "Jesus Christ Phillip! You're bleeding. Shit! We've gotta leave now!"

"What about _him_?"

Damien shook his head, "I'll get the gun, meet up with Kenny at the cafeteria, he's hiding with Karen there. Those other two... they're looking around here, but they're elsewhere."

"R-right," I stuttered as I moved out of the room and into the hall, a few minutes and I was at the Cafeteria, Kenneth was nowhere in sight, I dared not to call out.

It was desolate; the tables had been moved so that they were at the side of the room, leaning against the side windows that made up near to all of the walls. To save space the janitor and dinner ladies flipped the tables on top of each other, making the room just that more open.

"Pip?" Kenneth's questioning voice echoed, around and around, as if I were in a great cave system and not a simple cafeteria. "This is the ghost of Kenny speaking, telling you to stop being such a fag and get the _fuck_ over here!" I took a long look around me until I noticed him in the far side of the room, in the north-east corner, having used some of the tables as a place to hide/cover.

He was glaring at me, arms crossed, his face in the same way that told me he was faking something. So I went to join him, and immediately I understood what he was faking, not being horribly scared, Karen lay behind the upturned tables, asleep but with her entire right arm wrapped in bandages.

"Are you ok?" I asked him, even though he wasn't, he really wasn't. I woulden't be surprised if he was near snapping.

"Do you remember when I asked if it was supposed to hurt when I saw Carol?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"That didn't hurt because she was an uncaring piece of shit. Karen though... god! THis hurts! _This_ is what hurts... but!" he grinned and he stared at me wide eyed, the same madness that I saw when he asked me if I had seen him die. "Those fuckers want the fires of hell? We're going to give them the fucking fires!" He laughed then, stumbling backwards and nearly bumping into the wall, he was not only laughing hysterically though, he was crying.

"Wh...what do you mean?"

He stopped laughing and reached into his pocket, bringing out a lighter, "You know the Bunsen burners?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that they're linked to a bunch of fuck off massive tasnks under the school?"

I nodded again, worried at what he was getting at.

"If we just make a nick in the tubes under the desks, one spark will send this place sky fucking high," he whooped in cheer and pointed right, where the sciance block was.

"Jesus Christ Kenneth! That's insane!"

"nothing's insane when it comes to keeping Karen safe, even if this leaves me dead for good, I know you'll find a good place for her. I know you'll keep her safe if I stay dead."

I was already at the end of my strings, and without thinking, I screamed: " _KENNETH, LISTEN TO YOURSELF YOU FUCKING NUTCASE, I'M NOT LETTING YOU DIE. BECAUSE YOU. WILL. DIE!_ "

He was silent for a second and guilt came over him, the tears welled now and he began sobbing, "Pip, man, I have to... I fucking have to because... because if I don't... if I don't they'll kill her. They'll actually fucking kill her! I have to!"

I stood over him and sternly looked down, "You're not killing yourself... if anyone's doing this then it's me..."

He shot up to his feet, " _NO!_ "

I laid a hand on his shoulder, "I said _if_ , I'm not planning on it... but what do I have out for me? You have Karen and Damien doesn't deserve death. Who am I? Really, who am I? That one in the background, that's who I am, I'm unimportant, I can be forgotten. That's brilliant though, because _you_ , you, Kenneth McCormick, you, Karen and Damien, the important ones, can live."

"And you called _him_ the nutcase?"

"Damien!" I exclaimed, turning around to find him only a few steps away.

"You do understand, 'be quiet' don't you? Because I'd think you would have guessed that we need to be."

"Oh shit! Them!" Kenneth whispered.

"They're on the other side of the school luckily, at least they weren't in the English block, but we better go moving. Where to though?"

Kenneth immediately responded, "The science block."

" _No!_ "

He pityingly looked at me, "If it comes to it, it's a better plan then nothing."

"Better plan then nothing?" Damien asked.

"Nothing," Kenneth responded, picking up the pale, sleeping Karen and he began walking away, to try his mad plan. There was nothing I could do to stop it.


End file.
